


make it on your own

by SailorChibi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Affectionate Sex, Anal Sex, Angel Castiel, Archangel Gabriel, Big Brother Dean, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blowjobs, Blushing Dean, Castiel's Handprint, Confident Castiel, Dom!Castiel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fingering, First Kiss, First Time, Flustered Dean, Happy Ending, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, Loving Sex, M/M, Mating, Possessive Behaviour, Possessive Castiel, Pre-Stanford, Season 2 Fix-It, Shower Sex, Shy Dean, Spanking, Sub!Dean, Sweet Sex, Top!Castiel, Trickster Gabriel, Winchester Brothers - Freeform, all the feels, angel brothers, bottom!Dean, caring sex, castiel will take care of dean, dean winchester needs a hug, emotional breakdown, handjobs, mischievous dean, mostly comfort, praying, stammering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3582438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Then</i>: when Gabriel left heaven, he took Castiel along with him. That's why when, centuries later, Dean Winchester goes hunting a trickster while his brother is at Stanford, he meets Castiel instead. And no matter how much Gabriel warns him off, Castiel wants this beautiful little hunter as his own, even if it's only for a few nights.</p><p><i>Now</i>: Dean is devastated by Sam's death at the hands of Jake Talley. On his way to sell his soul to revive Sam, Dean prays for the first time in years. His prayer is answered by someone he hasn't seen in over three years: someone who turns out to be an angel, someone who vows to care for him, someone who wants Dean as a mate. The angel Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majestic_duck (majesticduxk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk/gifts).



> This story was a commission for majestic_duck because she is awesome and I love her.
> 
> It will be presented in a slightly different format. 5 chapters will take place in the past, and 5 chapters will take place in the present. The chapters will alternate until you've got the whole story, culminating in an epilogue. It will be full of angst and fluff and feels with a happy ending.

**Then:**

There was a feather twisted out of shape in Castiel's right wing, and it hurt. He turned his head a little to try to see the errant feather, but quickly realized that his upper torso wouldn't bend that far. Worse yet, when he tried to stretch his arm over his head, his arms proved to be too short to reach. His fingers were brushing against the plume, but not to the point where he could get a decent enough grip to pull it out without it hurting even more.

He huffed with frustration, his tiny wings twitching in agitation, and then went still when even that small movement was enough to make the dull ache turn sharper. He slumped against the floor, pressing his wing against the ground in the hopes of using pressure to soothe the pain. It didn't work. The pain deepened into a similar throb that was exactly like the time Uriel had roughly pulled one of his feathers out and then laughed at him when he cried from the pain.

Had Anael or Balthazar been around, he might have gone to them for help. But he knew that the two older angels were otherwise occupied with garrison business, and any other angel would be just as likely to make the pain worse. No, no matter how much it hurt he was better off staying where he was until someone who wasn't intent on causing him pain came to find him. He opened glossy eyes to look up at the heavens, trying to distract himself by listening to the sounds of the chorus. It worked until he shifted his right wing just a smidge and the feather bent further. He whimpered then, soft and high, and heard footsteps outside the nest. 

"Oh Castiel, what have you done to yourself?" Gentle, familiar hands scooped him up off the floor, guiding him up onto a warm shoulder. Castiel whined wordlessly, nuzzling his way into his older brother's throat. Gabriel smelled like fresh air and smoke; he must have been flying on Earth again. It was just enough of a distraction that he barely noticed when Gabriel gently located the feather that was causing him so much distress and twisted it back into place.

"I fell," Castiel mumbled, mouthing at Gabriel's wings. They were so much larger than his, sleek and lovely, a shining shade of gold that would've made any human fall to their knees in wonder. A far cry from Castiel's own, dull black wings. Sometimes, if Gabriel was feeling particularly patient or kind, he would allow Castiel to suckle at the tip of a feather. The taste was not one that Castiel could put into words, but it had an underlying hint of sweetness and never ceased to make him feel like he was safe and floating.

"You fell," Gabriel repeated wryly, one large hand palming Castiel's back to better keep him in place. "And just who helped you fall?"

Castiel hesitated, not wanting to tell on his fellow brother. But Gabriel would get the truth out of him eventually, and sometimes it was easier to just confess. "Uriel."

"I knew it. That little bastard," Gabriel muttered, bouncing him gently.

"Don't punish him," Castiel whispered, seizing his opportunity to latch onto a feather. He suckled gently, sighing as the last bits of pain finally faded away, soothed by both the taste and Gabriel's grace. It was only a minute or two before he began to purr, and Gabriel chuckled.

"Technically I'm not supposed to be letting you do that, you know. If Michael ever saw that, he'd throw a fit."

But he didn't sound very worried, and Castiel knew why. It hadn't been so long since the last fight, and Michael was far too distracted over Lucifer and what might happen next to worry about what the rest of the angels might have been doing. Gabriel probably could've abandoned him entirely and Michael wouldn't have cared, even though he'd been the one to insist that Gabriel be given a nestling in the first place (according to Gabriel, it was done in the hopes of making him act a little more mature. It hadn't worked). 

At the thought that Gabriel might leave him because there was no one to make him look after Castiel, he stopped sucking and grew tense. His purring stopped as Castiel made a quiet sound of distress, muffled by the tip of the golden feather in his mouth.

"Shhh. I won't say anything to Uriel. There's no point. No matter how many times I try to do something... nothing ever changes." Gabriel didn't sound angry, merely resigned, and even though that wasn't what was bothering Castiel it was still comforting to hear. He wrapped his arms around his brother's neck and resumed suckling.

Gabriel chuckled again and carried Castiel over to the back of the nest, where there was an arrangement of soft tawny feathers, shed by Gabriel during his last molting, for them both to lay on. But Gabriel didn't lay down. He sank down onto the feathers and held Castiel in his lap as he whispered, "I'm done with it, Castiel. I can't handle this place anymore. Michael and Lucifer aren't willing to listen to reason. They're going to tear each other apart. And I don't want to watch that happen."

His voice cracked and he paused. Castiel tried to move, wanting to see the expression on his brother's face, but Gabriel easily kept him in place. Softly, he added, "I... I wish that Father would come back to settle things between them. I think that He is the only one who could. Michael is so stubborn, and Lucifer is so convinced that he's right. Maybe it's cowardly, but I'm sick of being stuck between them. Is that so wrong, to not want to have to watch them kill each other?"

It didn't _sound_ bad, but Castiel was still very young and he'd been told multiple times that there was a lot he didn't understand yet. So he offered the only comfort he could, freeing one hand from around Gabriel's neck to stroke the tip of Gabriel's wing. The archangel shifted under the light touch and then purred deep in his throat, nuzzling the top of Castiel's head in thanks. They sat there like that for a long time, even after Castiel grew tired and laid his head on Gabriel's shoulder.

"You'd like Earth, honeybee," Gabriel whispered finally. "Wouldn't you?"

Castiel yawned. "You said I wasn't allowed on Earth."

"I changed my mind. Archangels do that. Sometimes I think it would be better to just leave you here, but..." Gabriel didn't finish his sentence, trailing off. But the way he folded both wings around Castiel spoke volumes. It was the sort of intimate act that was only done between the closest of angels, and then only rarely - but it was like nothing else. Gabriel's wings were so big and strong and warm that Castiel went lax all over, his eyes sliding shut in ecstasy.

"Michael gave you to me. That means you're mine." Gabriel stood up, still clutching him close, and moved to the entrance of their nest. "Keep your eyes closed, Castiel. Don't look no matter what happens."

"Okay," Castiel whispered, obediently turning his face into Gabriel's throat again so that he wouldn't be tempted to look. The wings around him slipped away, much to his private regret, and he felt Gabriel moving, the subtle shifting of Gabriel's shoulders and the feel of the air against his wings telling Castiel that they were flying. 

He clung to Gabriel and wondered what it would be like on Earth, where the other angels wouldn't be around to tease him. He would miss Balthazar and Anael; Balthazar liked to take him flying, and Anael always had a kind word for him whenever Castiel saw her. But he wouldn't miss the rest of his brothers and sisters - and maybe, without having to watch Michael and Lucifer fight all the time, Gabriel would be a little happier.

The air pressure against Castiel's body increased and he flinched, huddling tighter against Gabriel, as a familiar grace radiated against his back. It was one he had only previously felt from a distance, but all of heaven would have recognized the presence of the Morningstar. Gabriel's arms tightened around him at the same time.

"What do you want, Lucifer?"

"Such a tone you're taking, Gabriel," said Lucifer, his voice sliding around the consonants of the Enochian in an unpleasant way.

Gabriel seemed unaffected, barking out, "You're in my way."

"I only wish to know where you're planning on taking that little fledgling. He looks awfully young to be leaving Heaven."

"That's none of your concern. He's _mine_."

"Ah yes, I had heard that Michael assigned you a fledgling for once." There was amusement in Lucifer's voice now, and Gabriel tensed. "He must like you a lot. He holds onto you very tightly. Perhaps you should introduce me to him."

"That's not going to happen. Let us pass, brother."

Castiel couldn't see what was happening even if he wanted to because Gabriel was holding him so tightly that it was beginning to hurt. But Lucifer must have stepped aside, because Gabriel began to move forward. They hadn't gone far before Gabriel jerked sharply to a stop, one of his arms falling away from Castiel. It was so tempting for Castiel to look, but Gabriel's warning rang in his ears. He kept his face hidden.

"I know what you are doing, _brother_ ," Lucifer spat, the false kindness gone. "You think it will be so easy to shed your duties and run away? What would Father say?"

"He would say that you and Michael have lost it," Gabriel snapped. "This isn't what Father wanted, Lucifer. I am His Messenger. I should know."

"A fine messenger, running away."

Gabriel tensed again and then Lucifer made a choked sound. The wind started to rush around them really fast, buffeting Castiel so strongly that he was nearly torn out of Gabriel's arms. He whimpered in fear, tears sliding down his face, until all of a sudden it stopped. 

"Lift your head, honeybee, it's okay."

Slowly, Castiel obeyed. His eyes widened as he looked around, taking in Earth for the first time. It was so different from Heaven. They were standing on a beach, the ocean waves regularly rolling over Gabriel's feet. Not ten feet away, two animals Castiel had never seen before frolicked in the water. He turned back to Gabriel, still shocked, and Gabriel smiled wearily at him and rubbed a thumb under his eyes, smearing the wetness. 

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't expect Lucifer would notice us."

"Did he hurt you?" Castiel asked.

"I'm fine, Cassie," Gabriel replied, his smile widening in satisfaction. "And we made it. For now, I'm going to hide us from Heaven, okay? I'll show you how to mask your grace when you're older."

"Okay," Castiel said. "Gabriel?"

"Yes?"

"Does this mean we're not going back?"

Gabriel hesitated, a look of guilt crossing his face. "Not for a long, long time, honeybee. Not until the Apocalypse comes."

Castiel nodded slowly. "Okay."

That was all Gabriel would ever say to him when Castiel asked about Heaven, no matter how old he grew. Eventually, not long after Lucifer was cast down, Gabriel found he enjoyed the company of the pagan gods and began pretending to be Loki, effectively concealing his archangel status. Bowing to the inevitable pressure, Castiel took a female vessel and with it, the guise of Mellona: the goddess of bees and beekeeping. The bees he cared for produced the sweetest of honey - though he never fell into it as completely as Gabriel did, who threw himself into Loki with everything he had.

The years passed very slowly sometimes, but Castiel enjoyed living on Earth a lot more than he did in Heaven. He frequently left Gabriel's side to pursue other interests, though he always found himself returning to his brother. It wasn't until 1983 that something changed. In early November, all of Heaven shook so hard that even Castiel, who hadn't used his grace for centuries, felt it. In a panic, he sought out Gabriel for an answer.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"It's nothing, Cassie."

"You can't pretend you didn't feel that, Gabriel. What did it mean?"

Gabriel sighed and crossed his arms. For a moment, he looked like he would rather run away than give Castiel an answer. Then he did something he hadn't done for years: he unfolded a gold wing and wrapped it around Castiel's shoulders, pulling him close. Into Castiel's ear, he whispered six words that were tinged with both regret and anticipation.

"It's the beginning of the end."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: the 'now' chapters take place during the last episode of season 2; the story deviates within the first ten to fifteen minutes of that episode, as you'll see below. And also, oh _Dean_ holy fuck that was painful to watch.

**Now:**

The silence felt even heavier after the door closed behind Bobby. For a split second, Dean actually contemplated calling him back. He could tell that Bobby was grieving, that he felt just as lost and helpless as Dean did. There was no doubt in his mind that if Dean said _anything_ , Bobby would bust down the door trying to get back in. But he just couldn't do it. He couldn't stand there and listen to Bobby try to talk about burying Sam, never mind giving him the proper hunter burial. So far no one else knew about Sam other than him and Bobby, and there was no way Dean was ready to have his cell phone light up with platitudes.

He pushed away from the table, sitting down hard in the chair that was right behind him. His eyes felt dry and burned when he blinked, but sleep wasn't even an option right now. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the relief in his baby brother's face when Dean and Bobby came around the corner. He could see the exact moment that Jake Talley came up behind Sam. And, like it was imprinted in high definition color on his eyelids, he saw the way Sam tensed when the knife slid deep into his back. Surprised pain flashing across Sam's expression, and then blankness as Sam slumped to his knees.

Why hadn't Dean called out to him sooner? Or maybe a better question was, why hadn't Dean used the goddamn gun in his hand to shoot Jake's fucking head off before he got anywhere near Sam? He glared down at his hands, _knowing_ deep in his heart that there were a precious few seconds that could have made all the difference in the world. Instead, he and Bobby had just stood there and watched as Sam was stabbed right in front of them - and then they'd let Jake escape. The asshole was still out there, walking around and breathing, while Sam's corpse occupied the only bed in the shitty cabin.

Dean's breath hitched on a sob. He pressed his hands to his face hard, like the pressure alone would be enough to hold back all of the emotions battering against him. It felt like he had a bowling ball in the middle of his chest that was sitting right on top of his lungs, and the weight made it nearly impossible to move or breathe. He wanted to get out there and start hunting Jake down. They didn't know where he'd gone - probably as far away as possible, if he had any sense - but Dean desperately wanted to take a knife to Jake and see how the man liked it. But that would mean leaving Sam, and Dean wasn't okay with that. 

Not that it mattered. It wasn't like Sam was going to wake up and wonder why he'd been left alone.

Another sob burst out before Dean could stop it and he slammed a hand down on the table. It hurt, but like a shock to the system it was enough to stop the tidal wave he could feel surging through him. He sat there for several minutes, trying to regain control of his breathing. It was harder than he was expecting. His hands were shaking when he finally got up, moving to peer into the bedroom. Every time a little part of him hoped that Sam's eyes would be open, that it would all turn out to be a horrible mistake, that he'd just had a nightmare that not two days ago he'd had Sam's blood all over his hands while his brother died in his arms.

But it was the same scene, never changing, just Sam on the bed, not moving or breathing. It was eerie to see him so still. Dean was so used to seeing his brother flush with life. Sam had never been good at staying still when they were kids; he was always moving, squirming, fidgeting, annoying the hell out of Dean when they were trapped in the backseat together. Used to drive their dad crazy, because what kind of a hunter couldn't sit still long enough to flush out prey? Eventually Sam had learned to contain himself a little, but Dean would've given just about anything to have his brother start being a pest.

He dragged a seat in from the kitchen and sat down heavily, staring at Sam's body. He was barely aware of talking, but he couldn't make himself stop even though the effort of speaking made a couple of tears roll down his face. He'd failed their dad and now he'd failed Sam. Because the kicker was, Sam wasn't dead because Dean had taken matters into his own hands. Sam was dead because Dean hadn't been fast enough or smart enough to react. All those years of training and what did he have to show for it? His only real job in life, taking care of Sam, was now officially over, because Sam. Was. Dead.

The angry torrent of words finally ran out and Dean let his head drop, gasping with the effort of not breaking down right where he sat. If that happened, there would be no going back. He'd never been the kind of man who cried easily, but this kind of grief was impossible to fight back and, once it took over, it would be inescapable. Probably the only thing he'd be good for was crying like a baby. He wouldn't even be able to argue against Bobby burying Sam, and the thought of dousing Sam in gasoline and salt and then lighting his corpse on fire was more than Dean could take. He surged to his feet, wiping desperately at his eyes as he walked out of the room.

Bobby had done a little research on Sam's laptop, because that was what Bobby did when things went wrong, and he couldn't come up with anything to save Sam's life. But there was one thing that they hadn't tried. Something he hadn't dared suggesting to Bobby, if only because he knew that Bobby would be furious. He'd tie Dean to a chair or leave him locked in the panic room before Bobby would let him make a deal with a Crossroads Demon. But even though it was probably a stupid idea, Dean didn't care. As long as he got his brother back, it didn't matter what happened to him. He'd gladly go to hell if Sam got to live.

It was surprisingly cold outside. The air felt good against his hot face as Dean blindly made his way to the Impala. They had everything they needed in the trunk, though that was mostly coincidence. The materials needed to summon a Crossroads Demon were pretty common, which was probably a good thing as he didn't have the time to spare trying to get them. There was no sign of Bobby outside of the cabin, but it was only a matter of time before the man came back. He might have agreed to let Dean be alone for a little while, but Bobby was too familiar with the Winchesters to stay away for long. 

He climbed behind the wheel and started driving, jerking the wheel a little more harshly than usual and pressing his foot down on the accelerator. His heart was beating so fast he felt a little dizzy, but it was a good, heady feeling that came from finally having a plan. The first thing he was going to do when he saw Sam was hug him. And then he was going to give Sam a slap in the back of the head and a long lecture on why you were supposed to make sure the enemy was actually dead before walking away. And then hug him again. And then they would hunt down Jake Talley and Sam could be the one to introduce him to a knife.

Despite how badly Dean wanted to get it over with, he did the smart thing and drove a little further to a crossroad. If Bobby happened to figure out what he was planning, Dean didn't want to be found that easily. He parked and got out, striding around to pop the Impala's trunk. His fingers were shaking again as he dropped in the bone of a black cat, yarrow, some graveyard dirt, and one of the top quality fake licenses Sam had made for them not that long ago with Dean's picture on it. Dean's throat tightened as he closed the lid on the box. If this didn't work, Sam would never make fake licenses again.

The ground was cold, but it was easy to scoop some dirt out of the way and make a little hole for the box. Dean set it down and then smoothed the dirt back over it. He'd always thought the suckers that did this were the stupidest sons of bitches on the planet, but for the first time he actually understood some of the desperation that could drive a person to this point. Of course, some people were just plain greedy. But others must have felt the same crushing desperation that he did. It had been months since he thought about Bela Talbot. She was a crazy bitch, but maybe not as crazy as he'd thought if things in her life had been so bad that she'd been here, too.

Dean waited, looking around slowly. There was no sign of a demon. He hissed under his breath, raising his voice to shout, "Come on, where the fuck are you? Let's get this over with!"

"Calm down, honey. I'm right here."

He didn't jump, but it was a near thing. The woman standing behind him was very attractive, with dark hair and a curvy body that was expertly displayed by the clingy black dress she was wearing. If they'd been meeting under different circumstances, like in a bar where Sam could roll his eyes with that 'my brother is a slut' grin he'd perfected, Dean probably would've tried to take her to bed. As it was, he just stared at her, waiting to see some proof that she was what she said she was. She rolled her eyes at him and let them flash back, confirming that she was a Crossroads Demon.

"I want my brother back," Dean said hoarsely, hardly able to force the words out through the lump in his throat. He'd never been much for praying. Despite using holy water against demons and being able to spot demons by invoking the name of God, John hadn't been a religious man and neither were his sons. But right then, Dean was praying with everything he had that this was going to work. Anything to get Sam back.

The demon smirked and started to say something, but before she could speak a weird sound filled the air. It sounded kind of like wings fluttering. Dean blinked, and when he looked again there was a man standing right behind the demon. He took a startled step backwards instinctively, suddenly realizing that in his haste to summon the demon he hadn't brought a single weapon along. The demon frowned at his reaction and began to turn around, but she was way too slow. The man clamped a hand on her shoulder. White light spilled out from under his palm, brightening so rapidly that even when Dean shut his eyes, it still ached. The demon screamed.

By the time Dean looked again, she was lying on the ground. Her eyes were burnt to empty husks. "No!" Dean shouted, the realization that she was dead hitting hard. "No! What the hell are you doing?"

"Dean," the man said quietly. There was something familiar about him, but Dean couldn't place him until he added, "I am an angel of the lord. I have been watching over you ever since we met three years ago. Do you remember me? My name is Castiel."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to update every Friday, but sometimes I get sick or I'm busy. If you need to know what's going on, follow my [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/) because I usually post something there if I'm not going to update.

**Then:**

The taste of beer was pleasing to his new vessel, Castiel discovered. He sat at the only bar in town, sipping from a mug that had some questionable lipstick stains on the rim, not even pretending to have an interest in the football game that was currently occupying the attention of at least three quarters of the men in the room. Noticing his inattention, more than one woman had tried to catch his eye. Castiel ignored them all, not interested in taking anyone to his bed tonight. Besides, he was waiting for someone in particular, and he knew better than to become involved with someone else: Gabriel would only take that as an invitation to leave or worse, skip town.

As he finished off his beer and gestured to the bar attendant that he wanted another, the door swung open behind him. Though Castiel didn't look, he sensed a shifting of attention as most eyes swung to the newest arrival. Slow, measured steps led to the bar as a woman that would have been labeled beautiful by anyone's standards eased herself onto the stool beside him. She had dark skin and hair, and the red dress she was wearing left very little to the imagination. When she turned to Castiel and gave him a sultry smile with full, pouty lips, Castiel was pretty sure he heard more than one man - and a couple of women - letting out soft groans of appreciation.

Castiel just frowned at her. "You're late."

"Aw, come on. Don't be like that. You know I have important things to do. I've been busy lately." Her voice was low and smoky. "But if you're really upset, I could always... make it up to you." She winked, setting one hand on his arm and slowly sliding it up to his neck.

"Gabriel, honestly," Castiel snapped, ducking the hand before the fingertips could make contact with his hair. After centuries on Earth, he was more open minded than most... but he still hated it when Gabriel tried to hit on him. No matter what vessel his brother was wearing at the time, Gabriel had basically raised him. God was their Father, but Gabriel was a decent stand in. 

Gabriel started laughing. "I'm sorry, honeybee. It's just too easy to mess with you. The look on your face when I put my hand on your arm..." She shook her head, chortling.

"No one else thinks you're funny," he muttered sourly into his beer.

"I bet if I asked the opinion of everyone here, _someone_ would think I'm funny."

"That's because they can see your underwear."

"And it's very expensive underwear, too," Gabriel said, preening and throwing her shoulders back. "Have you ever worn the Carine Gilson line? It's heaven. It makes my tits look awesome."

"I don't really want to think about your tits, Gabriel."

"Every morning I ask myself how I ended up with a fledgling that has such a stick up their ass. Honestly, you're _mine_ but no one would ever know it from the way you go on," said Gabriel, deliberately messing up Castiel's hair when she ruffled it. He jerked away again and glared at her, but she just smirked. "Pray tell, why did you want me to meet you here if it wasn't just to make the local women flock to you? 'Cause I gotta tell you,. babe, that vessel might be enough to do the job without my intervention."

"That is not why I chose this vessel," Castiel said, glancing down at himself. Unlike Gabriel, who had found his vessel in the early ninth century and always returned to it eventually, Castiel had made it a practice to regularly change vessels every hundred years or so. He liked experiencing life in different forms. His current vessel was a young man by the name of James Novak. Novak had been a fairly religious man before a car accident left him as a vegetable with no higher brain function, unable to even breathe on his own. Castiel could have healed him, but Novak had been desperately unhappy, having just lost his job and broken up with his girlfriend, so instead he sent Novak's soul on to heaven and took the vessel for himself. So far, it was very... comfortable.

"Yeah, I know. You never have any fun," Gabriel said with a sigh. She inched her stool closer, letting their shoulders press together. "Go on then. Tell me what's up."

"There's a hunter in town."

Gabriel blinked, looking a little surprised. "A hunter? Baby, you called me out for that? You know I've dealt with hunters before. It's not a big deal."

"I know. I also know that you've been getting a little out of control lately. I mean, three men savaged by a lion? Really?"

"I'll have you know all three of those douche bags got what was coming to them." Gabriel was pouting now, but she couldn't have been too upset. She was also leaning forward, strategically pushing her arms together so as to push her breasts up under the bartender's nose. The poor man was practically drooling. 

"They always do," Castiel said, because not even he could argue against that. While he might not always have agreed with the fact that Gabriel's brand of justice often ended in a fatality for the chosen victim, Gabriel was very particular about making sure that it was always well deserved. In all the time that Gabriel had been pretending to be Loki, he had never once targeted someone who was ultimately innocent - though there were, on occasion, times when someone who was innocent got caught in the crossfire. That was usually when Castiel tried to intervene. Sometimes he was more successful than others.

"Then I don't see what the problem is. Let the hunter come. I'll deal with him just like I've dealt with all the others." A gorgeous smile replaced the pout as the bartender set down an enormous, fruity drink in front of Gabriel: no doubt created exactly to her specifications even though she hadn't actually spoken a word to the man. She pulled the drink closer and carefully sipped from the straw, purring in contentment.

"You can't keep killing hunters who try to come after you. Maybe they can't hurt you, but they're integral to keeping humans safe from supernatural creatures."

"Look at you, trying to control the hunter population," Gabriel teased.

"I'm serious!"

Gabriel sighed. "You're always serious. Look, I'll tell you what. I have my eye on one more idiot in this town. If you can distract or get rid of the hunter that's shown up and let me pull one more prank in peace, I'll move on to a different town. I won't touch the hunter so long as he or she doesn't confront me. Deal?"

"Deal," Castiel agreed, because it was the best he was going to get. He was privately relieved. As an angel Gabriel was immortal, but he wasn't immune to being killed. Sooner or later, a hunter was going to find _something_ that could harm him. 

The look on Gabriel's face strongly suggested she knew exactly what was going through Castiel's head, but she didn't comment. Instead, she darted forward and pecked Castiel's cheek. "See you later, baby bro," she said, scooping her drink up and vanishing. No one in the bar noticed, of course, not even the bartender. 

For a moment Castiel wasn't sure of the reason for his brother's abrupt departure. Less than a minute later, though, the door to the bar opened again. A man stepped in: early twenties at best, though the wide green eyes, soft curve around his jaw, and freckles made him look even younger. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt under a green jacket, and he was trying hard to blend in with the locals but the way he held himself - just a little too tense, a little too aware - practically screamed hunter.

Despite all that, it was the man's soul that immediately captured Castiel's attention. It was the brightest human soul he had ever seen, the glow almost bright enough to rival grace. Yet it was not a perfect soul. There were fractures in this soul, places where it had nearly shattered, and more than a few dark spots of self-loathing and _pain_. Somehow all of that only combined to make the soul even more beautiful, and Castiel found himself wanting to soothe away all of this man's pain, wrap him up in his wings and take him away somewhere safe.

He'd never felt that way about a human before. Surprise paralyzed him, and in those few seconds the man caught his eye and approached. He sat down on the stool Gabriel had just vacated, nodding to the bartender and asking for a beer. His voice was quiet, a little rough around the edges, but sweet. Castiel could envision that voice crying out in pleasure and felt certain parts of his vessel's anatomy beginning to respond. He cleared his throat, finishing his beer as he adjusted the front of his coat.

"You from around here?" the man asked. "I mean, I figure you're not, but I thought I'd ask."

"No," Castiel replied, intrigued. "But what made you think I wasn't?"

The man shrugged. "It's a small town. Everyone knows each other. You're the only person sitting here alone. And also, you're the first guy I've seen all day who's actually wearing a suit instead of sweats." He looked up finally, mouth quirking into a mischievous grin, and Castiel _wanted_.

"I'm just passing through with my brother."

"Ah." Something darkened in the man's eyes, and the biggest fracture in his soul deepened a little more. "Mind if I ask you a few questions? Name's Dean."

"Cas," Castiel said, gripping the offered hand. Dean's grip was strong and seemed confident, but Castiel suspected otherwise. One quick twist of his wrist and he could slam Dean down on the bar, crowd up behind him and pin him down. And he just knew that Dean would melt into it so beautifully, might fight a little bit at first but would ultimately give in, allowing himself to be cared for. 

"Cas," Dean repeated, drawing his hand back and picking up his beer. "You heard anything about those weird deaths?"

"A little. I'm afraid that I don't pay much attention to the local news. Are you with the police?"

"FBI, actually. I'd show you my badge, but I left it out in the car."

Castiel waved a hand. "Not necessary. Like I said, most of what I've heard is just gossip. People seem to be under the impression it was just a freak accident."

"A lion mauls three people and then gets back into his cage, as docile as a lamb," Dean said doubtfully, raising an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound much like a freak accident to me. If an animal is that wild, you'd think that it would hurt a few more people."

"Sometimes certain animals require a gentler hand, though one that is no less firm," Castiel said mildly, taking a chance and letting his fingers skim the edge of Dean's elbow. He knew that humans could be peculiar about gender, but he liked his vessel and it wasn't unattractive. If Dean was amenable, Castiel would proceed as he was. Of course, if Dean was only attracted to females, he would just have to select a different vessel for a few days. One way or another, Castiel was going to have this man - this _boy_.

Dean's eyes fell, staring at the place where Castiel was touching him, and then he blushed. It was gorgeous. The soft pink color swept across his cheeks and down his throat, probably staining his chest as well. "I... um... y-yeah... I guess..." he stammered.

"I find that sometimes even an animal that isn't used to such treatment will thrive under it," Castiel continued, increasing the pressure just a little. He used a spark of power, just enough to let Dean feel the heat of his fingertips through the fabric of his clothing. "Having all of your needs met, having someone to protect you, to _care_ for you... it's such an appealing thought, don't you think, Dean?"

The sound of his name seemed to startle Dean. He jumped up, nearly knocking over his beer. "Y-yeah... T-that's... I just remembered I h-have to... y-you have a g-good night."

"You too," Castiel called after him, smiling to himself as Dean fled the bar. The sweetness of Dean's confusion and arousal lingered. He pulled the barely touched beer over to him and finished it off in a few deep gulps. It appeared that he would not need to search out a new vessel after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Now**

Most of the time that Sam had been away at Stanford was a blur to Dean. But for the occasional hunt given to him by John or Bobby, he'd been left to slowly work his way across the country by himself, learning to hone his skills in the family business. And when he wasn't hunting, he was either having sex or drinking. Both helped to numb the sharp edge of pain that flared up every time he glanced in the rearview mirror and realized Sam's face wasn't there the way it was supposed to be, and made him feel a little less like he was a complete waste of space that wasn't even capable of keeping the rest of his family together. 

But through the haze of blood, chicks and booze, there were a few things that stood out in his mind, and one of them was the man - angel? - standing in front of him. Dean didn't usually sleep with guys, preferring instead to admire from afar and let his father think that both of his sons were equally straight. It was just a lot easier that way. Cas - Castiel? - had changed his mind on that with just a couple of encounters. From the moment Cas had touched him at that stupid little bar, fingers sliding across Dean's wrist, Dean had wanted, and it terrified him. He remembered practically tripping over his own two feet as he left the bar, torn between embarrassment and lust.

He'd never forget how Cas looked the first time Dean saw him: the calm blue eyes, capable of showing so much emotion, the full pink lips that seemed perpetually chapped, the strong jaw and windswept dark hair. That stupid-ass trenchcoat that made him look like a flasher just waiting for an unsuspecting woman to walk by. The long fingers that gripped his glass so carefully. And then, later on after Dean had let himself forget about Sam and their dad for just one night, the body underneath the trenchcoat and ill-fitting suit, a runner's body, sleek and burning so hot, hands holding him down with impossible ease. 

Well. Not so impossible after all.

"Angel," Dean repeated, feeling exactly like he had the first time Cas touched him, incapable of intelligent speech and wanting to flee.

"That's right," Cas said gently, sliding his hands out of his pockets and holding them up. Like he was trying to show Dean that he wasn't a threat, even though Dean had just watched him kill a demon with his bare hands. It wasn't inconceivable to think that there was plenty Cas was capable of even without touch.

"Angels don't exist." Finally, Dean's mind started working again. He stumbled back a step, trying to gauge the distance between himself and the Impala. He'd spent too many nights listening to John deride Sam for wasting his time learning about angels to believe that angels were real. But he knew for a fact that there were at least one or two creatures capable of reaching into his head and plucking out information. Creatures that could also take on any form they desired. This wasn't Cas. This was some son of a bitch trying to make Dean fall for a ruse so he'd be easy prey.

"I know what your father told you. He was misinformed. He'd never met an angel before. For the most part, we try to stay away from Earth." Cas smiled a little, and that twitch of his lips felt like a stab in the heart.

"Fuck you," Dean snarled, and at least his body remembered what to do: he stooped down, grabbed a handful of loose dirt and lobbed it straight into the asshole's face. He didn't wait to see how Cas would react, taking off for the Impala. There were two guns lying on the backseat where Bobby had pitched them after they carried Sam's body back to the car. He jerked the back door open, grabbing Bobby's shotgun and reeling around.

Cas was standing not two feet away from him. There was no sign of the dirt Dean had thrown at him. "Dean, you don't have to -"

Pressing his finger against the trigger felt good. It was what he'd been itching to do ever since Sam had dropped to the ground right in front of him. But as the bullets slammed into Cas's chest, a different thought occurred to him. Maybe this _was_ Cas - maybe this was Cas _possessed_ , and Dean had just writ him a death sentence as soon as the black-eyed bitch possessing him left his body. He reared back, throat tight, feeling like he couldn't breathe as he groped around for the trunk's latch. It popped up and he plunged a hand in, nicking his palm on the blade of a knife. Not caring that it stung like crazy, he slid his hand down until he could wrap his fingers around the handle.

The knife was slippery with his blood when he picked it up, but it didn't matter because Cas was already there. Dean stabbed him in the shoulder on instinct. Cas looked down at the knife and raised an eyebrow, then sighed. He lifted a hand and wrapped his fingers around Dean's wrist. Gently but firmly, he pulled Dean's hand back. Trying to wrench his hand away didn't do any good; Cas's grip was so tight that there was no way to get free, and Dean remembered that too. Remembered those hands holding him down while Cas fucked him slowly, fucked him until the only thing that mattered was the pleasure and the way he'd sobbed and begged for it.

"You've hurt yourself," Cas murmured, frowning in displeasure as he examined Dean's hand. The cut wasn't real deep, though it would probably need stitches. It was bleeding pretty badly, blood falling between Dean's fingers to the ground. 

"Let go of me," Dean snarled, jerking the gun up and shoving the barrel to Cas's chest. This close wasn't ideal by any means, but at least it was a threat. He ignored the nagging voice in his mind that pointed out that a knife and a couple of bullets hadn't been enough to stop this demon or whatever it was in the first place. Another bullet was hardly going to be the tipping point.

"I see you're just as stubborn now as you were then."

Dean gritted his teeth. "Christo."

Slowly Cas blinked, and then he smiled. His eyes remained blue. "I'm not a demon. I'm an angel." His fingers tightened a little around Dean's wrist and a weird tingling feeling slid up and down Dean's arm. Dean stared at his hand, speechless, as a soft white light washed over his palm. When the light died away, his hand was fine. There was no sign of the blood or the cut. It was like it had never happened.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, shaken. As far as he knew, there was no supernatural creature with the ability to heal like that. He slowly flexed his hand, half-expecting the pain to return. But it didn't. If anything, his whole body felt better than it had in years. It was like he hadn't really processed on a conscious level how much pain he was in until it was gone.

"I'm an angel," Castiel repeated for the third time. "Back when we met the first time, I was an angel then too."

"You don't... look like an angel," Dean said lamely.

"We don't wear white robes and carry harps around, Dean. My true form would burn your eyes out. This is a vessel."

"You mean you're wearing some poor shmuck like a demon?" Dean demanded, horrified.

"No. This vessel belonged to a man by the name of Jimmy Novak who was hit by a car on his way home one night. His body was undamaged, but his soul was so tired it was ready to pass on to heaven. Jimmy gave me permission to keep and use his vessel." Castiel smiled. It made his blue eyes twinkle. "We always have to ask for permission. I can't possess someone who isn't okay with it."

Dean knew firsthand there were a hell of a lot of ways to get permission out of someone that wasn't given freely. But it didn't sound like that was the case... _if_ Castiel was telling the truth. "What the hell are you doing here, then? And why did you kill that demon? I needed her!"

"You're not going to sell your soul. I won't allow it."

"Too bad you're not the boss of me," Dean sneered. "My little brother is dead because of me. It's my fault. I was supposed to protect Sammy and I didn't. If this is the only way to bring him back, I don't care."

"Do you know what hell is like?" Castiel asked him. "It is endless torture. Pain and suffering beyond your imagination that won't stop. Not until you break, and when that happens it will mean the end of the world."

"I don't care. That's where Sammy is right now!"

"No, Dean. Your brother has not yet descended to hell. His soul is being held by the king of the crossroads in preparation for you to make this deal." Castiel's free hand cupped Dean's cheek. The gentle touch made Dean's eyes burn with tears. "This is exactly what the demons want. You are the Righteous Man. And when you take up a blade and shed blood in hell, it will break the first seal on Lucifer's cage. That will lead to the Apocalypse. The battle of Lucifer and Michael will destroy the Earth."

It sounded like nothing short of pure insanity. Dean struggled to understand. "But - Sammy -"

"You can't save your brother this way. Would Sam want to live knowing that you had sacrificed yourself for him? Would he want to live knowing that it meant the Apocalypse was going to happen? That millions of people would die?"

No. Sam wouldn't want that. Sam would, in fact, be furious if he even knew that Dean was _thinking_ about going through with his plan anyway. But he didn't know what else to do, and for all he knew this was the ravings of a lunatic. Castiel couldn't be telling the truth. Dean, the Righteous Man? There was no way that was true. He just couldn't. 

He threw his weight to the side, hoping to pull Castiel off balance. It worked, but instead of jerking against him, Castiel went with him. Dean squeaked as he landed hard on the ground, the breath momentarily knocked out of him with the impact. Castiel landed on top of him and immediately flipped him over and grabbed for his other wrist, yanking his hands up over his head. He pushed closer so that he was seated between Dean's thighs, leaving Dean helpless.

It was the exact same thing he had done the first time they ever had sex. The memory washed over Dean hard and left him floundering. He remembered feeling so _safe_ that night, warm and cared for and protected. The same feelings were enveloping him now as Castiel leaned forward, his chest pressing against Dean's back, caging him in with his elbows and knees on either side of Dean's shoulders and hips.

"Dean, I'm sorry."

A choked sob burst out of him before Dean could stop it, and all of the fight drained from his body. He went limp against the mud, crying like a little kid. Castiel held him down for another couple of minutes before he moved, taking a seat on the ground. He helped Dean up and then hugged him tightly, apparently not caring that the ground was cold and wet or that Dean was getting snot and tears all over his shirt.

"I don't know what else to do," Dean sobbed, clinging to him. "Cas, help me. Please."

"I will. Shh, it's okay. We will." Castiel petted his hair. "I promise."


	5. Chapter 5

**Then:**

Most hunters usually possessed a certain amount of charisma to make their jobs easier. Confidence made people more willing to share information. Castiel had met his fair share of hunters over the centuries, so he was more aware of that than most. But as he stood by, invisible to the human eye, and watched as Dean flirted with the daughter of one of the men who'd been mauled by the lion, he found he didn't like it.

For someone was supposedly grieving, the daughter was cozying up to Dean pretty quickly. Her tears had stopped the moment Dean flashed her a cocky smile, and now she was leaning against his arm while they both spoke in lowered tones. Dean was asking her for details about what her father had been doing the night he was killed. She was leaning forward in such a way as to let Dean get a look down her top and suggesting that they go out for a coffee to talk more about it.

Killing humans was not something he frequently indulged in, Castiel reminded himself. He'd sent years frowning on Gabriel for doing exactly that. Not to mention, it was an excellent way to earn a hunter's ire. He wanted Dean's attention, but not in a way that meant he'd end up on the other side of Dean's knife - even if Dean wouldn't be capable of hurting him. Despite that, he couldn't resist using a spark of grace to awaken the slumbering children upstairs.

At the sound of the crying children, the daughter immediately broke away from Dean and rushed upstairs. Dean watched her go with a disappointed frown, but he didn't seem too crushed. He walked out of the house, whistling softly, and Castiel silently followed. It was a shock to see the way Dean tensed and turned suddenly, one hand going to the gun he wore on his hip, staring directly at the place where Castiel was standing.

"That's a live wire, right there."

Castiel jerked a little as his brother appeared beside him. Now Dean was staring at both of them, not that the hunter was aware of it. After another second or so, Dean dismissed his instincts against what his eyes were telling him and relaxed, continuing on his way to the car. He stroked the hood with his fingers before he got in. Loud music blared out the windows as he started the car and drove off.

"A live wire?" Castiel repeated, only bothering to speak once Dean was gone. He turned to Gabriel, raising an eyebrow when he saw that Gabriel was back in his normal vessel: a man from the late thirteenth century who had once tended to animals. 

"The guys in this town are assholes," Gabriel said in response to the unasked question, crossing his arms. "Most of the time I like to take it as a personal challenge, but a certain baby brother of mine made me promise I wouldn't prank anyone else while there was a hunter in town... Although, had I know it was _that_ hunter, I might've been more willing to move on."

"That hunter? Why is Dean so special?"

"You don't recognize him? Man, kiddo, sometimes I think I did a disservice in taking you away from heaven."

He stiffened. "I didn't know that."

"That's not what I meant," Gabriel said, his eyes softening. His wings flared out, wrapping around Castiel and pulling him close. He could have resisted, but Gabriel's wings were just as soft and warm and _familiar_ as ever. Castiel found himself relaxing, letting his head rest against his brother's shoulder. 

"I wouldn't have left you in heaven for anything, little bee. All that bullshit Michael and the rest of them are spewing, you'd have grown to be just as self-righteous and single minded and you've got so much more potential than that. But sometimes I forget how little you know about Father's plan."

"I don't understand."

"The Apocalypse," Gabriel clarified, idly combing his fingers through Castiel's wings. The gentle grooming felt so good. Castiel purred softly, and Gabriel chuckled as he continued, "That's ultimately what will happen when Lucifer gets free. It's said that it will lead to Paradise on Earth once Michael triumphs. You remember Paradise, don't you? The only reason it hasn't happened so far is because they lacked the vessels to finish it."

"Are you suggesting that Dean is..."

"Michael's vessel. It's written all over him if you know what to look for," Gabriel confirmed. "It's a little different to how my true vessel looked, because Michael is so much stronger than I am, but it's there. You should stay away from him, Cassie. I'm positive that he's being monitored by angels. We don't want to draw Heaven's attention now."

But there was more to it than that. Castiel was skilled enough at reading his brother to know that, and he wasn't going to let Gabriel get away with only giving him partial information. "I didn't sense any angels around Dean. I don't believe he's being monitored. Besides, I like him."

Gabriel tensed and the gentle movement of his fingers stopped. "Don't go down that road. You can't have him. He belongs to Michael."

"Michael is in Heaven. He hasn't shown any interest in coming to Earth. And I don't see why he should automatically get Dean."

"Cassie -"

"Besides, won't the Apocalypse destroy most of the Earth?" Castiel continued, straightening up. Gabriel's hands fell from his wings. "Why would you want that to happen? I thought you loved it here."

"You're talking about things you don't understand."

"I may not be an archangel, but I am still an angel," Castiel reminded him, stung. "And I have spent centuries by your side. If anyone should understand you, it would be me."

There was a strange look on Gabriel's face. "Can't you just leave it? Lucifer is still in his cage. It won't happen for a while yet. That hunter is the Righteous Man. He has to go to hell and shed blood before the first seal can be broken."

"The soul of Michael's vessel is intended for hell?"

"No, but I'm sure someone upstairs or downstairs will insure that it happens."

"That's horrible," Castiel breathed, stunned by the cruelty of Heaven. 

"It's just how things are going to play out," Gabriel said dismissively. He was trying hard to pretend like he was unaffected by their conversation, and to anyone who didn't know him well, he might have succeeded. "Come on. You were right. Let's just leave and go somewhere else."

Castiel stared at him for a moment, truly tempted by the offer. It was rare that Gabriel would actually agree to leave a town before he was ready. But at the same time, he didn't want to go. He kept remembering the brightness and beauty of Dean's soul and how much he yearned to give that fractured soul true peace. Sending something so spectacular to hell just to break the first seal on Lucifer's cage wasn't just cruel, it was a travesty. And he couldn't believe that Gabriel was prepared to stand idly by and allow it to happen.

"I am not prepared to leave," he said quietly. 

"Cas -"

Not waiting to hear what else his brother was going to say, Castiel spread his wings and escaped. Gabriel could have followed him, of course, but he was pleased to find that when he landed in a small park on the other side of town, he was still alone. He needed time to think about what Gabriel had told him, and to reflect on what he was going to do about it - if anything. Because Gabriel was right about attracting the attention of Heaven and how dangerous that would be. 

He took a seat on a bench not far from where some children were playing and contemplated the Apocalypse. He remember hearing Paradise talked about on occasion, usually in reverent whispers amongst his brothers and sisters. At one time, Castiel would have been just as anxious for Paradise. But before he and Gabriel had come to Earth, and Castiel had learned to appreciate humanity for what they were. Was it really right to allow the world to be torn apart?

Those were the kinds of thoughts that, had he been raised in Heaven, he never would have dared to think. In a way, Gabriel had brought this on himself. Castiel felt his lips quirk up into a faint smile, and he lifted his head to watch the children play. There was such innocence and joy in their young souls. It reminded him of Dean's soul, though of course no child possessed the same shine that Dean did.

At least now he knew why Dean's soul was so beautiful. The Righteous Man, the Michael Sword, the vessel of the strongest archangel. Gabriel was probably right: it would be best and safest for Castiel to stay far away and let things play out as Gabriel had suggested. He doubted Heaven had eyes on Dean right now, but at the same time it would be an unwise decision to risk it. 

Even as that was running through his mind, someone sat down beside him on the bench. Castiel's grace flared with wanting, and he knew who it was without even turning to look. "Hello, Dean."

"Hey," Dean said around a mouthful of donut. "Saw you moping around. Did you know you look like a pervert, sitting here watching those kids?"

Castiel turned to him, realizing that there was powdered sugar all over Dean's mouth. He had to push away the desire to lean over and slowly lick it off. "I was just looking for a place to rest. I had an argument with my brother and I needed to think."

Something flickered in Dean's eyes, and, much like it had at the bar, one of the fractures in his soul deepened. "Oh yeah? Your brother a dick?"

"Sometimes," Castiel allowed. Now that he was looking, he found it hard to turn away. He was well aware of what demons looked like. How could it be their Father's plan to send this soul to hell and let it become stained? If the Righteous Man truly had to shed blood in hell, that would mean a taint deeper than even an angel could erase. Or perhaps Michael just didn't care, because to him Dean's soul was just something to be cast away so that Michael could use his vessel.

"I know the feeling," Dean said. "My brother's a dick, too." He took another bite of his donut. "Lucky us, huh?"

"I do not feel lucky," Castiel said honestly. This was truly a test. His desire for Dean was not lessening. If anything, it was growing stronger. If Dean's soul was only going to be so pure for a little while longer, he wanted to brush it with his grace while he had the chance. He _wanted_ Dean.

"Tell me about it. I thought that I'd have an easy time figuring this town out, but it seems like everywhere I go someone is telling me a different story. I can't tell who's lying and who isn't. And then there's you, popping up everywhere I go."

"We've only met twice," Castiel pointed out, amused. "And it's a small town."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe I should be asking you questions. You're the one who rolled into town right before this happened." He spoke lightly, but there was a hard glint in his eyes. 

This was a test, Castiel realized, and his intrigue deepened. The instincts of this hunter were sharper than he'd expected. Between this and what had happened earlier, it was almost like Dean sensed something about him. "I assure you, if I were capable of setting a lion free to maul someone, I'd have far better control over my brother."

For a moment, Dean blinked. Then he laughed. "Geez, Cas, you don't beat around the bush, do you?" He popped the last of his donut into his mouth.

"No. But you know, Dean, there is a chance that whoever did this is already gone. You may be wasting your time."

"That's part of the job," Dean said with an easy smile. "I gotta be sure. Can't leave anyone in danger, you know?" He got up, dusting his hands off on his pants. "See you around, Cas." He winked.

Castiel nodded and raised a hand in goodbye. There was a curious tightness in his vessel's throat which he couldn't identify the cause of. Dean was certainly a very thorough hunter: a lot of hunters wouldn't have picked up on the case in the first place, and those that had probably would've given up after the first few conflicting interviews. That Dean refused to give up, just in the event that there was still something dangerous here that might hurt someone else, spoke volumes.

One thing was swiftly becoming clear: even if Castiel had wanted to back off, he couldn't. He wanted Dean too badly to just leave.


	6. Chapter 6

**Now**

Dean had no memory of going to bed. He hadn't actually slept a whole night through for days, not since before Sam had been taken in the first place, and even when he did drop off for an hour two, it certainly wasn't in a bed. But that's where he woke up, in an unfamiliar bed back in the cabin. There was a heavy blanket tucked over him, holding off the worst of the chill that lingered in the air, but he still felt cold.

There was no blissful few moments where he didn't remember what had happened, like he'd read about in books. No, the second he was awake the reality of the situation slammed into him like a salt round at close range. Sam was still dead because Dean hadn't been able to sell his soul to get him back, and - he closed his eyes to hold back another bout of tears - it was Sam's birthday.

Birthdays had always been kind of a sore spot in the Winchester family. When they were really young, John had made more of an effort. Dean didn't usually get any presents from their dad, unless you counted hunting gear or weapons as a gift. But Sam did, at least when they were kids, even if it was just a cheap trinket from the dollar store or a birthday cupcake from the supermarket. It was funny how something so stupid used to make Sam's eyes light up.

By the time Sam turned five, though, Dean was old enough to look after the both of them and John started missing a lot of birthdays. Not because he wanted to, but because birthdays just didn't matter as much as the hunt. Somehow, Dean always managed to squirrel away something for his baby brother, even if it meant going an extra day or two without a meal, though any joy from a gift was usually ruined by John's absence.

Then came Stanford, and the time they'd spent apart. That first year, Dean had thought seriously about sending something to his brother. The only thing that stopped him was the realization that he had no idea what he was supposed to send. Sam was respectable now, so booze and porn were out of the question. Same went for weapons. And he had no idea what kind of books Sam read, or what else Sam did with his free time.

So he didn't send anything, but he did get up the nerve to call. Standing there in the shadow of the Impala, listening to that phone ring without someone picking up, hanging up only to try again with the same result, Dean remembered thinking he'd hit the lowest point of his life. He'd left a message, something short and stupid, but he was pretty sure that Sam had never bothered to listen to it - had probably deleted it immediately.

And then the two of them had joined back up, and under the weight of everything else they faced birthdays kind of fell by the wayside. Hunting the Yellow Eyed Demon had consumed their lives. Had he gotten Sam anything last year? Dean couldn't remember, and that bothered him. At the very least, he should've grabbed a case of beer or maybe one of those weird salads Sam liked so much. He might've gotten him something even better if he'd known it was going to be Sam's last.

Dean gasped a little under the crushing wave of grief that washed over him. His mom, his dad and his brother were all gone. He was the only Winchester left. Just because he was twenty-eight years old and technically an adult didn't mean he was ready for this. He wasn't. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Bury Sam and then find a way to keep hunting on his own? Yeah, right. Because that had worked so well the last time. 

He rolled over onto his side and stared at the far wall for a while, wishing that he could go back to sleep. But there was no way that would happen without the help of some alcohol, and he doubted that the run down cabin was that well stocked. Besides, even if he were lucky enough to fall asleep, nightmares wouldn't be far behind and he didn't relish the idea of waking up screaming. He could replay the moment of Sam's death over and over in his head without needing to see it while he was sleeping. For that matter, he wasn't even sure how he'd managed to sleep for as long as he had. Pain and grief were like an itch under his skin that he was unable to scratch. 

After about twenty minutes, there was a light knock on the door. Despite the fact that Dean didn't answer, the door opened a crack anyway. "Dean? You awake?"

It was Bobby. Dean seriously contemplated not answering, but that had rarely fooled Bobby in the past. And even if it did, there was a good chance Bobby would just come wake him up anyway. Though even if he didn't, then Dean couldn't hide in the bedroom forever. He made sure there was no trace of tears on his face before he sat up, squinting at the door. "Yeah, Bobby, I'm up."

The light made it difficult to see, but Dean was pretty sure Bobby looked him up and down before speaking. "You've been asleep for over sixteen hours."

"Sixteen hours?" Dean repeated, shocked. That meant he'd missed the morning of Sam's birthday entirely. It had to be afternoon by now. He slung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, swaying a little from momentary disorientation. Loathe though he might have been to admit it, he did feel better for the sleep. His mind wasn't quite as muddled. But now his stomach was growling, like his body had moved on to another source of distress once the most important need had been answered. Problem was, he didn't know if he could eat anything without throwing up.

"You needed it, son," Bobby said, pushing the door open the rest of the way. "You were dead on your feet. It's the only reason I'm not pissed at you, by the way, for scaring the hell out of me. Did it not occur to you that I might come back to an empty house and wonder where you went?"

Dean flushed a little. He'd known that Bobby would be worried, but he just hadn't cared. It didn't seem wise to say that, so he settled for, "I'm sorry, Bobby. I just... I needed to clear my head, okay?"

"Clearing your head is an odd way to say that you were out making friends with angels." There was heavy disbelief in Bobby's voice, but not the kind that meant he didn't believe. More of the 'sometimes I can't believe this is really my life' variety, which was something that Dean had become intimately acquainted with himself over the past few years.

"Angels?" Dean repeated, realizing that it hadn't been some twisted dream brought on by a nasty combination of grief, exhaustion and shock. He took a wobbly step forward. "Cas is still here?"

"Well, guess that means he was telling the truth after all." Bobby made a face and sighed. "Yeah, they're still here. I never thought I'd see the day where I saw two angels bickering like a couple of little kids. For beings that are supposed to be heavenly, they sure do act exactly like you and your brother."

"They?" Pleased that he quickly regained his balance once he started moving, Dean ignored the rest of that sentence as he pushed past Bobby and strode down the hall. He carefully didn't look into Sam's room as he passed, instead keeping his focus on what passed for the kitchen. Cas - Castiel - was there, sitting at the table. But there was another man, or angel, with him that Dean didn't recognize. He was surprisingly short, probably only shoulder height next to Dean if they were both standing, with brown hair and brown eyes.

"Short?" the guy said, turning to glare at Dean, and oh yeah he was definitely an angel. His eyes looked brown at first glance, but evidently glowed gold when he was pissed off.

"Gabriel," Castiel said meaningfully, shooting Gabriel a look. "Your vessel is vertically challenged. You've known that for centuries. As I recall, it was the first words out of your mouth once you finally tracked him down. By this point, I'd think you would be used to it."

Gabriel subsided, openly sulking, as Castiel stood up and walked over to Dean. Part of Dean wanted to back away, because Castiel was an _angel_ and that meant he was definitely the predator here. And in Dean's experience, it was never a good thing to end up as prey. But there was another part of him that desperately wanted to fall into Castiel's arms again, and that part kept him locked in place as Castiel stopped right in front of him. He was so close that they were definitely encroaching on each other's personal space bubbles, but Castiel didn't seem to mind. He looked at Dean with sad eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said gently.

And yup, with those two little words Dean was officially done. He forced himself to take a step back and put a little more distance between himself and Castiel. "I don't need your platitudes," he said, voice hoarse from crying and disuse. 

"Dean -"

"I don't even know why you're still here. You gonna save Sam?" He desperately prayed that Castiel would say yes, and Castiel's eyes got even sadder.

But Gabriel answered first. "No."

It was what Dean expected, even if it stung. "Figures," he said, resolutely pushing away the hurt. He should've known better than to believe Castiel's promises for even a minute. He focused on his anger instead, because it was easier, and it made him feel strong. "I don't know what the hell you're sticking around for, then. You better be gone by the time I get back, or I'm gonna figure out a way to do some damage."

"Where are you going?" Bobby demanded. 

"I'm going to get Sam back."

"Don't do anything stupid, Dean."

"Stupid? What was stupid of me was letting Sammy get hurt in the first place," Dean snarled. "He's my little brother, Bobby. I was supposed to protect him. And now I'm just supposed to stand by and let him die? Fuck no. Sammy saved my life when I got electrocuted. The least I can do is repay the favor." 

"Would you just stop and think for a second?" Bobby snapped. "We can figure this out."

"We've done all the research, Bobby. You think a miracle is going to happen?" Dean shook his head. He kept remembering the smile on Sam's face when he got out of the Impala the night that Jess died. How happy he'd looked to be going back to his normal life. Dean had ruined that, and now he'd gotten his baby brother killed. "I have to make this right. I need to make this up to Sam."

"This wasn't your -"

"Don't tell me it wasn't my fault," Dean interrupted sharply, not wanting to hear it. "It was all my fault. Dad told me I might have to kill Sammy and I couldn't even - he _sold his soul_ so that I could be here to keep Sam safe and now I've failed them both! If I'd done things differently... We would've realized what was happening sooner."

"You know what will happen if you sell your soul," Gabriel said.

Dean glared at him. "I don't care," he hissed. "All I care about is saving Sam."

"Selling your soul is not the answer, Dean," Castiel said.

"It's the only answer I have!" Dean yelled back, losing his temper. He shoved the kitchen door open and stepped through, letting it fall shut with a satisfying clang. It was a beautiful day, and the sight of the blue sky only served to make his mood even worse. He glared up at the sun and stormed off the porch. Castiel had ruined his first attempt at making a deal, but Dean was determined that the second attempt was going to work.


	7. Chapter 7

**Then:**

It was another two days before Castiel encountered Dean again. Or at least, two days as far as Dean knew. He had continued to follow Dean around, always invisible, watching as Dean grew increasingly frustrated with his inability to figure out what was going on in the town. It didn't help that it had now been almost five days since the initial attack, and it was starting to become old news. People were writing the whole thing off as nothing more than a freak accident, as humans did so often, and that meant they were a lot less inclined to share any information with an FBI agent - even one as handsome as Dean. After the third door was slammed in his face, a scowling Dean headed for the bar.

Castiel flew there ahead of him, entering the bar and taking a seat at the counter where he knew that he was easily visible to anyone who walked in. He ordered two beers. Just as the bartender set them down, the door to the bar swung open. The noise level didn't diminish in the slightest, but Castiel could still hear the quickening of Dean Winchester's heart when those green eyes first spotted him. He hid a satisfied smile behind his beer, pretending not to notice as Dean took the seat beside him and then snatched the second beer without asking.

"Do you know what I hate about small towns?" Dean demanded, expertly cracking the beer open. He was sweating, voice hoarse with dust, and he drained half the bottle before he continued. "They're so damn _small_. There could be a killer somewhere in this room, but no one wants to say anything because everyone knows everyone. I don't know how people can live like this. You never get any privacy."

That was interesting coming from a boy who'd grown up in his brother's pocket. Castiel glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Dean's true discomfort with small towns came from the fact that he wasn't used to being open with anyone. Things like emotion, and in particular affection, made him uncomfortable. He filed that away for later use. For now, even the poorest of observers would've been able to see how much energy Dean had tonight. He was practically vibrating on the stool, mouth twisted into a school and fingers drumming against the bar in no particular rhythm. The lack of a successful hunt was making him irritable; he needed to be tamed.

"There is a certain charm to them," Castiel said when he felt that Dean had waited long enough for an answer. "I prefer a larger city myself, but I've been told there is something to be said for a place where everyone knows your faults and accepts and protects you anyway."

Dean's hand froze, the lines of his body drawing tight. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered, tossing back the rest of his beer. "See ya, Cas." He spun around, clearly intending to leave. Castiel snagged his wrist, stopping him. He watched Dean's face closely as Dean's head snapped up, noticing the surprise, tempered with uncertainty and annoyance. And yes, in the depths of his eyes, a hint of arousal.

"You don't have to leave yet," Castiel murmured, deliberately keeping it intimate, something to be shared between them. 

"Cas..."

"Just one night, Dean. I find myself at a loss as to how I might find a companion in a place like this. I would welcome the company."

Dean's eyes dropped down to where Castiel gripped his wrist. He was clearly working through something in his head. Castiel waited, and his patience was rewarded when Dean took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"We'll go to my hotel," Castiel said, standing up. 

"What about your beer?"

"I have something much tastier in mind," Castiel purred, pleased when Dean blushed. He slid his hand down, fingertips suggestively trailing across Dean's palm, and twined their fingers together. Then he tugged, leading Dean out of the bar. He pretended that he'd walked to the bar, and Dean agreed to drive them back to the hotel in his car.

Of course, Castiel had no reservation. But it was simple to manipulate the mind of the clerk into thinking that room 311 was closed for renovations so that she wouldn't try to rent it to someone else. He pressed a hand over the handle and light flashed green, allowing them entrance into what was - for such a small town - a very nice and well kept room. The second the door was shut behind them, Castiel shoved Dean up against it and kissed him. Dean was clearly startled for a few seconds, but it didn't take him long to get with the program. His hands clenched in the fabric of Castiel's coat, and he started kissing back with a surprising amount of desperation.

When Dean's lips parted, he tasted of beer and old, stale donuts. It was the most delicious thing Castiel could ever remember tasting. He licked his way into Dean's mouth, but Dean didn't back down. He was doing well at keeping up, his hands flexing impatiently, until finally he turned his head and broke the kiss. He was breathing hard, lips bruised and swollen, and all Castiel wanted to do was kiss him again. 

"Are we just gonna stand here and make out or are we gonna do something about this?" Dean ground his hips forward against Castiel's hip. He wasn't fully hard yet, but he was definitely on his way there.

"Oh, we're going to do more than you imagined," Castiel said, letting his voice grow rough and deep, and Dean's eyes darkened. He started to say something, but Castiel neatly spun them around and gave Dean a solid push back towards the bed. Dean stumbled, surprised, and went down hard on the bed when his knees hit the edge. He sprawled on his back, shirt slipping free of his pants and showing off a toned waist and the start of a thin trail of light brown hair.

"You're bossy," Dean said, sitting up. Evidently he liked that, because he stripped off his suit jacket and carelessly threw it on the floor. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, ripping off a button or two in his haste.

"Slow down, Dean. We have all night."

Dean scoffed a bit, jerking his shirt off. "Dunno 'bout you, Cas, but I'm not into slow and sweet. I like it fast and hard."

"You don't know what you need," Castiel rumbled, anger momentarily swamping his desire. He could see the way Dean's soul flickered when he spoke. It wasn't quite a lie, because Dean did enjoy a rough tumble between the sheets, but what he truly craved was someone who would treat him like the precious man he was. Something he'd never had, possibly because he didn't know how to ask for it, or because he didn't think he deserved it. Whatever the case, Castiel knew exactly how he wanted the night to go.

He advanced on Dean, who was looking more interested by the second, and stood over the bed. Their eyes connected as Dean unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants and underwear down, leaving him fully naked on the bed. His dick was more than half hard now, plumping up beautifully under Castiel's watchful gaze, even though Dean was blushing slightly. Even though the temptation to leap on top of Dean and just take him was amazingly strong, Castiel managed to hold himself in check. Very slowly, he looked every inch of his lovely human over. Dean was in shape from a life of hunting, though his belly was just a little soft from a love of fast food and baked goods, and he had several scars. 

Castiel wanted to know what each scar was from, but he knew better than to ask. Instead, he cleared his throat. "I want you to get on your hands and knees. Then I want you to touch yourself while I spank you. If you're a good boy for me, I'll fuck you afterwards."

The expression on Dean's face was priceless. His mouth dropped open, though he was speechless. Interestingly, his cock hardened fully even as his face turned a deeper shade of pink. "That's - I'm not into that kinky shit, man."

"You can leave, if you want," Castiel said, making sure that he didn't sound derisive, that it came out genuine. "But I will never hurt you, Dean. I won't do anything you won't enjoy. And you can stop me at any time. As soon as you say 'stop', I will."

A few seconds of silence dragged by. Dean's erection didn't flag. He stared hard at Castiel, most likely comparing the two of them in size and trying to figure out if he could take Castiel in a fight if something went wrong, because there was nothing about desire in that careful scan. He must have decided that he would be the winner, because he licked his lips. 

"You have to strip first."

"Very well." 

It was hardly a problem on Castiel's part; had he allowed himself to feel it, his vessel's cock would've been aching from straining against the seam of his pants. He removed his shoes and then his jacket and coat, taking the time to fold them, and then his tie and shirt. Even without angelic senses, he would've been able to sense the force of Dean's gaze on his back as he allowed his pants to slip down around his feet. He smirked as his boxers joined the puddle of clothing, and then he deliberately bent over to pick them up. Dean's choked sound was well worth it.

He straightened up, set the clothing aside and turned around just in time to see Dean clambering onto his hands and knees. But in order to get one hand around his cock without falling over, he had to lower his face and shoulders to the bed for extra support. It had the lovely effect of leaving his firm ass in the air, a perfect target that only became more appealing when Dean shifted his knees apart a little, giving Castiel an excellent view of his hand on his dick.

"You can come anytime you want to," Castiel said, stepping closer to the bed. He rested a hand on the curve of Dean's spine, knowing that he would have to summon every ounce of control to keep his grace from reaching out to Dean's soul when they finally had sex. For now, he admired the way sweat was collecting in the hollow just above Dean's ass.

"If you don't get started, I'm gonna come without you," Dean muttered, his breathing quickening as he jerked his hand up and down his cock.

Castiel smirked and spanked him. The impact of hand against buttock was surprisingly loud in the otherwise silent room, but Dean's shocked inhale was even louder. His whole body froze as the place where he'd been spanked slowly turned bright pink. It had to sting, because Castiel had put a fair amount of strength into the blow, but he suspected that the burn would only fuel Dean's enjoyment. 

When Dean started breathing again, Castiel spanked him again. Just as hard, on the opposite side, so that he bore a matching pink handprint on both cheeks. It was a sight that Castiel made sure to fix in his memory. Dean was still quiet, fingers locked around the base of his dick like he didn't remember what to do, but Castiel could see the tension in the fist he'd made against the bed with his free hand. 

It was the rest of his body, however, that gave away his true feelings. Dean was a hunter, and his natural reaction to pain was to fight against it. But instead of lunging away or retaliating, Dean was pushing himself through the reaction with a genuine desire that was astounding. Within minutes, his shoulders rolled back and his legs parted more as he unconsciously thrust his ass into the air, looking for more stimulation. 

Just the glimpse of Dean's hole made Castiel's mouth water, but he refrained. He would give Dean what he needed before indulging them both. The next few spanks were far lighter, designed to tease more than anything, peppered across the seat of Dean's ass and even down his thighs. Then, feeling playful, he gave Dean's hole a rough tap with his index and middle finger.

Dean jumped. "Hey!"

"You don't like it when I touch you there?" Castiel asked, feigning innocence. 

"I want you to fuck me, not tease me," Dean grumbled.

"All in good time, Dean. Such impatience." Castiel spanked him several times in a row for the impudence. Dean rocked forward with the force of the spanking, his head twisted to the side so that he could breathe, and then he moaned.

It was the sweetest sound, soft and surprised, made better by the embarrassed blush that immediately swept over Dean's face. 

"Touch yourself," Castiel ordered, spanking him again, and was thrilled to see that Dean immediately obeyed. His hand was shaking as he jerked himself off, eyes squeezed shut. He was biting his lip now in an attempt to keep the moans and whimpers at bay, but Castiel could still hear them. He spanked faster, deliberately letting the heat build up, the skin turning a gorgeous shade of light red.

There was no one moment that pushed Dean over the edge; it was gradual, with a bitten off sob, his whole body sinking into it as he came all over the bedspread. His legs collapsed from under him, leaving him sprawled on the bed. Castiel stood over him, seeing both the man and the soul and the way that each sight competed with the other in terms of sheer beauty. 

It took effort, but Dean finally managed to rasp out, "Cas."

Castiel shook his head. "I'm here." He stepped closer, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, and put a hand to the back of Dean's neck. Then, deciding that wasn't close enough, he slid onto the bed and crawled over Dean. He cadged Dean in with his elbows and knees, and bent so that his lips brushed against Dean's ears. Dean was trembling.

"Cas," he said again.

"I know," Castiel murmured into his ear, letting his hips roll forward slowly, so that Dean could feel his hunger. "I'm going to fuck you just like this. Don't worry, Dean. I'm not going anywhere."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this chapter contains a brief scene of non consensual, non sexual spanking.

**Now:**

Even though Dean had no memory of driving his car back last night, the Impala was parked about twenty feet to the right of the cabin. He stormed over to his baby and carefully inspected the doors on the driver's side to make sure that there wasn't any damage from his little fight with Castiel. It didn't look like there were any new dents or scratches, though his baby would need a thorough washing before Dean could be sure. Something he could take care of after he brought Sam back.

He straightened up and reached for the handle on the driver's side. It wouldn't open, even though the car wasn't locked. Dean frowned and jiggled the handle. "What the hell?" he muttered under his breath, taking a step back and trying the door to the back seat. That wouldn't open, either.

"You humans are funny sometimes."

Dean jumped at the sound of a voice so close to his ear and instinctively threw an elbow back, but there was no impact. And by the time he spun around, fist raised just in case, Gabriel was already standing a good couple of feet away. He was smirking, arms crossed, apparently unaffected by the force of Dean's glare.

"I just don't understand you lot sometimes," he went on. "Why you would willingly subject yourself to hell. You really must not know what it's like if you're going to sell your soul."

"Not that it's any of your business, but Sam is my brother," Dean said, working hard to keep his voice level. 

Gabriel shrugged. "Yeah, I know, you've said it often enough. But I still don't get it. The demons are lobbying hard to get you downstairs and that means you'll be subjected to the worst kind of torment hell has to offer. Lots of personal attention. Time travels more slowly down there, you know. A month up here is like ten years down there. And you're signing up for eternity."

A prickle of fear wormed its way through the haze of anger, but Dean resolutely pushed it aside. Regardless of what Castiel or Gabriel said, it didn't matter what happened to him. "I don't care what happens to me. As long as Sam is okay, that's all that matters."

"So it doesn't matter to you that millions of people could die if you do this?" Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or that your brother will probably be angry with you?"

"At least he'll be alive to be angry," Dean snapped. He tried the handle of the door again, but this time he thought he knew why it wouldn't open. "What the fuck did you do to my baby?"

"Nothing. I just wanted the chance to talk." Gabriel shrugged. "It's funny... you really are very similar to Michael. I didn't really see it before, but now I do. You're both determined to do the right thing according to the rules your Father laid down. Both just too damn stubborn."

Dean let out a hollow laugh. "You think this is about my dad? That has nothing to do with it. Sammy's my _brother_. Where I come from, that actually means something. Sam's soul is in the hands of those demons. You're suggesting I should what, just stand here and let them do whatever they want with it? That I should damn my baby brother's soul to hell when there's something I could've done to stop it? You think I shouldn't trade myself for him just because of a little torment? What kind of a coward do you think I am?"

He dropped his hand from the Impala, taking a threatening step towards Gabriel. "You're Cas's brother, aren't you? Are you telling me that if our positions were reversed, you wouldn't do a damn thing to help him? If that's the case then I feel sorry for Cas, because you are a shitty brother."

The first hint of anger dawned in Gabriel's golden eyes. "Watch your tongue, Winchester."

"Why should I? You're not doing anything. Big strong archangel standing by and letting everything happen around him, good for you. I'm glad you can sit up there on your high horse and watch the rest of us puny humans stumble around in the dark. You can say whatever you want about me, but I _love my brother_ and I'm _not_ gonna abandon Sammy."

"Gabriel!" Castiel appeared between them before Gabriel could respond. He looked furious. "Dean, that's enough."

"Then tell your douchebag of a brother to let me into my car," Dean snapped. 

"You are _not_ going to sell your soul, Dean."

"That's really not your decision to make, Cas." Dean took a step back, remembering what had happened the last time he got within touching distance of the angel. He didn't like the idea that Castiel was so much stronger than him.

"It's not the answer," Castiel repeated stubbornly. "Selling your soul to the demons won't change anything. Have you considered what will happen if you're gone and the demons decide to attack Sam?"

Dean paused momentarily, because he hadn't thought about that. But then he shook his head. "Sammy's smart. He knows how to gank demons with the best of them."

"That didn't help him last time," Gabriel pointed out.

"Fuck you," Dean hissed, turning on his heel. He stalked back to the car. The stuff he needed was in the trunk, which - unsurprisingly - wouldn't open when he tried to lift it. That was fine. He'd collect it all again if he had to. Might take a bit of work, but money talked and he had a couple of credit cards left that he could max out. Wasn't like he would need them where he was going, and Sam could fill out more applications no problem. He shoved his hands in the pocket of his coat, making sure that he had his wallet, and started walking down the path towards the road. 

The faint flutter of wings was the only warning he got before Castiel was suddenly in front of him. Dean jerked to a stop as Castiel seized the front of his coat, pulling him in until all Dean could see was the anger blazing in those unnaturally blue eyes. But instead of making him afraid, it just served to make his own fury surge. How _dare_ these two think that they could order him around just because they were angels?

"I said fuck off!" he yelled into Castiel's face, bringing his hands up to knock Castiel's away. "It's my soul and I'll sell it to whoever I damn well please!"

"That's _enough_ ," Castiel growled, easily shaking off Dean's grip. He grabbed Dean's right shoulder and unexpectedly wrenched him forward, like he was going to throw Dean over his hip. Dean stumbled forward in surprise, but never hit the ground. An arm across his chest slowed his momentum, holding him in place, and then Castiel spanked him hard.

It shocked Dean so much that, for a moment, he just froze. His mind couldn't understand what was happening until Castiel spanked him a second time. It was nothing like the playful spanking he remembered from last time. This _hurt_. The pain was dull at first, but then it radiated out into a burn that left him gasping. He started fighting, trying to kick and punch, but it was like trying to hit a tree. Not a single one of his blows made Castiel even flinch; it was like the angel didn't even notice.

He was spanked again in rapid succession, a series of hard spanks that left Dean breathless, and then Castiel lowered them both to the ground and grabbed Dean's flailing arms. He knelt, pinning Dean's hands to his lower back, and kept Dean in place with just that one hand while he kept spanking Dean with the other. Dean jerked and kicked, but unless he wanted to be lying across Castiel's lap like a child, he had to try and support himself on his knees so he couldn't kick very well.

Not that it mattered. He was trapped, and Castiel wasn't letting up on the spanking. The palm of his hand connected with Dean's backside time after time, long after the initial burst of energy ran out and left Dean lying tense and struggling just to breathe through the spanking. It was a sharper pain now, because his whole ass was stinging, and he found himself wincing with every impact. 

Little pinpricks of that pain stabbed through his anger until it was as flimsy as tissue paper and held up about as well. Dean closed his eyes and bit his lip to hold back the whimper, but there was no keeping back the tears. They welled up and spilled over in record time, splashing off his checks and landing in the dust. He went completely limp with the first sob, not sure if he was crying because of the spanking or because of how damn helpless he was.

The moment the sob escaped, though, the spanking stopped. For a few seconds all Dean could hear was the harsh rasp of his own breath in his ears, and if it weren't for the hard knees digging into his chest he would have thought he'd been left alone. But then Castiel touched him again, one hand gently stroking the curve of his ass. It might have even been soothing, if the touch hadn't stung so much.

"I won't let you sell your soul, Dean. Not even for your little brother. You are worth more than that," Castiel said softly.

"But Sam -" Dean whispered, grimacing. His throat hurt. He didn't remember screaming, but it sure felt like he had been. 

"I'll save him."

Dean's head shot up and he stared at Gabriel. He'd forgotten that the archangel was even there, and the thought that Gabriel had been watching while he was spanked was completely humiliating. He flinched backwards and, surprisingly, Castiel helped him to move, pulling Dean up and into his arms. Dean had to force back another flinch when his throbbing backside made contact with Castiel's lap.

"You?" he croaked. "But you said -"

"I changed my mind." There was an odd look on Gabriel's face now. Thoughtful, maybe. "Maybe you're not as much like Michael as I thought." 

"You're certain?" Castiel said, echoing was Dean was thinking. "You won't change your mind?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I've been waiting for this to happen so long that I've actually come to like the Earth," he said. "It would be a shame to watch those two idiots destroy it. Besides... maybe Father was right. Humanity has problems, but at least they try to learn from their mistakes." He glanced back at Dean and smirked. "Or at least, most of them do."

Dean glared back at him, though there wasn't nearly as much heat in it as he wanted. "Just like that?"

"Call it a gift, Winchester," Gabriel drawled. "And consider yourself fortunate my honeybee is so obsessed with your soul." He smirked and then vanished, leaving only a parting remark: "I look forward to seeing you brought to heel."

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean demanded, looking at Castiel.

"It's Gabriel being a nuisance," Castiel said, rolling his eyes and pressing a fingertip to Dean's throat. A cool tingling swept through his throat, easing the roughness that made it so hard to speak. Then he reached up and rubbed some of the tears on Dean's face away.

Embarrassed, Dean turned his face to the side. "Don't, Cas."

Castiel sighed. "Why must you be so stubborn? I want to take care of you, Dean, and protect you, even if it's from yourself."

"I don't _need_ protecting."

"Maybe not, but is it so bad to want it?" Castiel asked reasonably. 

Dean didn't know the answer to that. He stayed quiet.

"Ever since I first saw your soul, I was fascinated. It shines with such a beautiful, pure light, but there are places where I can see your pain and self-loathing. Times when you were broken and had no one to put you back together, even though it's what you wanted more than anything else in the world. There's nothing wrong with that, Dean. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be loved."

"So what are you suggesting?" Dean muttered, blinking hard to keep any more tears at bay.

"Mate with me."

"What?"

"Mate with me," Castiel repeated. "Be mine. I will always protect and care for you. Nothing on Earth really interested me before I met you. Your spark made me view the world differently. I have thought of no one else since the last time we met. No matter how many times Gabriel told me to forget about you because of the Apocalypse, I couldn't. There is no one else that I would have stood up to Gabriel for. I love you, Dean."

It was overwhelming. Dean looked back at him. Castiel was smiling at him, looking just the way he had back at the bar when Dean had made an impulse decision to have sex with a guy for the first time. Truth be told, he hadn't been able to forget about Castiel since then either. The handful of days they'd spent together had always stayed in Dean's mind. More than once before he'd joined back up with Sam, he'd considered trying to track Castiel down. No one had ever made him feel as safe.

Finding out that Castiel was an angel hadn't really changed that. If anything, it only served to make him feel even _more_ safe, even though that went against everything Dean had grown up believing. That wasn't a feeling that Dean had very often - not to mention cherished, and wanted, like for the first time ever someone was actually putting Dean first. And in the end, Dean still just wanted to tangle his hands in those stupid bed-head curls and fall asleep in Castiel's arms. 

Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed Castiel. "Yeah," he said, mumbling the words against Castiel's lips. "Yeah, okay."


	9. Chapter 9

**Then:**

Dean's whole body was shining with sweat, and he was shaking. Even the hair around his face was damp, sticking to his forehead and cheeks as he slowly raised himself back up. That seemed to take the rest of his strength; his thighs would've given out if Castiel hadn't gripped his hips at the last second, controlling the speed at which Dean slid back down onto his cock. Dean's face flushed, his green eyes glazing over as another soft moan escaped and he sagged.

"Cas, _please_ ," he begged, his voice hoarse from the all of the whimpering and moaning. "I can't - it's too much, please, you're killing me."

"But you're so beautiful," Castiel said honestly. And he didn't just mean physically, though the sight of that pretty pink blush deepening only made him want Dean even more. But it was more than that, even. Dean was trying _so hard_ to be good. Even though his cock was flushed a deep red and had to be hurting, even though he'd been fucking himself on Castiel's cock for the past forty-five minutes, he was still trying.

"Cas," Dean mouthed, too far gone to actually be able to vocalize the word. His head fell back in a startled, wordless cry when Castiel pulled him down firmly and circled his hips, deliberately grinding against Dean's prostate.

Castiel wanted to keep him like this forever, but he could tell that Dean had been pushed to the very edge of what he could handle. Another minute and Dean's body would make the decision for them, and that wouldn't be fair to Dean. He'd held on for so long. He deserved to come knowing that Castiel was proud of him - which Castiel would be either way, but Dean wouldn't believe it.

He sat up, enjoying the helpless whimper that the change in angle provoked, and wrapped a hand around the back of Dean's neck to pull him into a deep kiss, licking his way into Dean's mouth. Dean whined softly, letting the kiss happen, too soaked in pleasure to really be able to respond. His trembling fingers came to rest on Castiel's shoulders, blunt nails digging in hard, and Castiel smiled into the kiss. He'd have to make sure the red marks that would be left behind from Dean's nails lingered for a while.

"I want to see you come," he said against Dean's lips, swiping his tongue across Dean's pouty lower lip. "Right now, my good boy. Come for me." He wrapped a hand around Dean's straining cock. It only took a couple of pumps before Dean was writhing against him, trying to gasp out something that sounded like Castiel's name.

Dean slumped into Castiel's arms when it was over, looking completely drained. Castiel kissed his forehead and allowed the tightening of Dean's muscles and the sight of the gorgeous boy in his arms to bring him to his own orgasm, rutting gently into Dean as he came. A quiet moan from Dean was the only indication that he was even aware of what was going on anymore.

"Such a good boy," Castiel said breathlessly, indulging in the feel of Dean against him for a few more minutes. They were hot and sticky and sweaty, but Dean's soul was practically purring with contentment. It was a reaction that Castiel had noticed during the other two times they'd been in bed together: this was the only time that Dean was truly content and satisfied and wasn't preoccupied with pain or worry.

Eventually Dean squirmed a little, and Castiel sighed as he regrettably lowered Dean to the bed and reached for the towel that had been left on the nightstand for just this purpose. He wiped the towel over Dean's chest to remove the drying semen, though he didn't try to clean between Dean's legs. Not because he thought Dean wouldn't let him - he knew that Dean would - but because he liked the thought of his come staying inside of Dean for as long as possible.

He swiped the towel over his own body more halfheartedly, then threw it on the floor and laid down so that he could pull Dean back into his arms. There was something on the hunter's mind, and Castiel suspected he knew what it was. After another three days of being unable to find any more information about the death of those men, Dean was getting restless. Either he already had word of another hunt, or he was actively looking. 

By morning, Dean would be gone.

Castiel brushed a kiss against the top of Dean's head to stifle another sigh. He could tell Dean the truth and go with him. Dean would be a hell of a lot safer with an angel by his side. But doing so meant that Gabriel would throw a fit the likes of which would definitely get heaven's attention. As it was, his brother was _not_ happy and had no problem making his feelings about Castiel and Dean clear.

And that was putting aside the whole situation of Dean being a hunter who'd been raised to mistrust supernatural creatures. Dean would be furious if he knew Castiel hadn't told him the truth from the beginning. No, it was best to let Dean go no matter how much every inch of Castiel's grace protested the idea. He frowned deeply, holding Dean a little bit tighter.

Dean stirred against him, eyes blinking open as a slow smile crossed his face. "God, Cas, I think you broke me."

"Are you in pain?"

"No. I just feel really well fucked," Dean replied, rolling away and stretching his arms over his head. He hummed in contentment, relaxing back into the bed. "Pretty sure I could pass out for the next twenty-four hours no problem, but I gotta get back on the road." He carefully didn't look at Castiel as he spoke.

It wasn't exactly the best way to break the news, but Castiel was just relieved that he wasn't being blindsided. "The FBI given you a new case already?"

"Yeah. I'm headed for California," said Dean, which meant he already had a new case in mind. "I'm supposed to meet up with a partner there, actually, so that's why I have to leave as soon as the sun comes up. It's gonna take me a while to get there as it is. I really should have left last night..."

"I'm glad you didn't," Castiel said. There was no need for Dean to drive through the night. 

"Done it plenty of times, Cas."

"That doesn't mean it's a good idea."

Dean shook his head, smirking a bit. "You worry too much," he said. 

"Don't get smart with me, or I'll give you another spanking before you leave."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Dean said, raising his eyebrows, and rolled onto his belly so that his ass was visible. He pushed up a bit, wiggling his ass tauntingly. "You have my permission to spank me anytime."

Castiel snorted and obliged, leaving a bright pink handprint on the seat of Dean's ass. "I bet you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? A nice hard spanking that you'd feel all the way to California. I haven't seen what your ass looks like when it's red yet. It would be a shame if I missed out on that."

"Yeah." Dean's eyes were beginning to dilate with arousal again. "A real shame."

Needless to say, it was well after the sun was up before the two of them actually made it out of the hotel room. Dean was walking a little funny, both from the spanking and the two extra bouts of fucking: once on the bed and then once again in the shower, because Castiel couldn't resist when he saw how delectable Dean looked with the water pouring down his body. He'd picked Dean up and had him right there against the shower wall.

The Impala was already packed and ready for Dean's departure. He opened the driver's door and threw his coat into the passenger seat, then looked at Castiel. He didn't seem to know what to say. Was it the first time that Dean had ever left someone behind? Maybe not. Castiel didn't care. He reached out, pulling Dean close and into another passionate kiss that left Dean's knees weak.

"Be careful," Castiel whispered, deliberately keeping his voice pitched low, as though the words were something intimate for them to share.

"I'm always careful," Dean said, mustering up a roguish grin. "I'd say the same to you, but I think the only danger you're in is of dying of boredom."

"The life of a university student is very dangerous," Castiel said loftily. That was a bald-faced lie and they both knew it, but Dean didn't need to know that Castiel was _always_ in danger. One wrong move would bring the wrath of heaven down on him and Gabriel. It was better that Dean left believing that Castiel had been traveling with his brother on a summer trip before going back to school in the fall.

Dean chuckled. "Sure it is, Cas. I'll take your word for it."

"Someday I'll prove it to you." Castiel kissed him again, unable to resist turning it into something slower and sweeter that had Dean clutching at his neck. He wrapped his own arms around Dean, hugging him as tightly as he dared.

But in the end he had to let go. He let his arms fall to his sides and took a step back as Dean got into the driver's seat, wincing slightly. He squirmed at what must have been the unpleasant sensation of his freshly spanked ass pressing against the leather sets, then glared at Castiel when he chuckled. Castiel just smirked at him. He hadn't been teasing when he'd said that he would make sure Dean would feel that burn all the way to California.

"You're a dick," Dean said, pouting as he started the car.

"It's just something to remember me by."

"Yeah." Dean was quiet for a moment. Then he muttered, "Bye, Cas."

"Goodbye Dean." Castiel stood there and watched as Dean drove the car to the end of the driveway. He waited until there was a gap in the line of cars and then pulled out onto the street. In a matter of seconds, the Impala had turned a corner and was out of sight. The urge to turn invisible and fly into the passenger seat was immediately overwhelming.

"Well, wasn't that just terribly heartbreaking."

Castiel closed his eyes briefly. He really didn't want to see Gabriel just yet. But his brother had never been one for patience. "Hello, Gabriel. Is there a reason you were spying on us?"

"Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to do anything stupid," said Gabriel.

"Like what?"

"You know what. I told you that this was a bad idea, Cassie."

"I know what you told me," Castiel said flatly. No matter how much it ached to let Dean leave, he didn't regret becoming involved with the hunter. Though the few days they'd spent together hadn't done anything to lessen his fascination with Dean. If anything, that feeling was even stronger now. He yearned to know how brightly Dean's soul could shine if someone devoted time and attention to easing the shadows that stained it. Time and attention that Dean deserved.

"He's gone now," Gabriel said, moving closer. "You had your fun and a lot of sex from the sound of it. That kid belongs to Michael and he's instrumental in the Apocalypse."

"Why are you telling me this again? He's already gone."

Gabriel just gave him a knowing look. "I've already found my next target," he said, abruptly changing the subject. "Small town in Europe that's just begging for the touch of a trickster. Interested?"

It was about as far away from Dean as it was possible to get without returning to heaven. No doubt Gabriel was doing that on purpose. But Castiel still nodded. He would go with his brother, if only because Gabriel would have a lot of pent up energy after this past week, but he wasn't going to forget about Dean that easily. He was going to keep tabs on the hunter, just in case something happened and he needed to intervene to keep Dean safe.

"Great. Let's go." Gabriel threw an arm around Castiel's shoulders and spread his wings, dragging Castiel along with him. Castiel sputtered a bit at the treatment - it had been years since he'd flown with his brother like this - but didn't bother to protest, just leaning into Gabriel's warmth as they headed for Europe.


	10. Chapter 10

Not ten seconds after those words passed through Dean’s lips, Castiel’s grip on his body tightened and the world _shifted_. Dean swallowed back a startled yelp, instinctively clutching at the angel as his belly clenched in displeasure. It was over in the length of time it took him to lift his head in shock, and he found himself looking out the window at twinkling city lights set against the backdrop of a sunset, with water in the distance. They definitely weren’t in the middle of nowhere anymore.

“What the hell?” he blurted, his eyes locking onto a familiar shape. Was that the Eiffel Tower? “Cas, are we… are we in _Paris_?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, like this was nothing out of the ordinary. “Over the centuries, Gabriel and I have procured many places all over the world. He has a particular fondness for impressing women when he brings them back with him.” He rolled his eyes. “But this is one of mine. It’s not as lavish as Gabriel would like, but that just means he’s far less likely to bother me here. I thought you would appreciate the privacy.”

“I…” Dean trailed off, tearing his eyes away from the awesome scenery to look around. They were in a bedroom, Castiel perched on the edge of the large bed with Dean still in his lap. Through the far door he could make out what looked like a bathroom, and the door across from him clearly led to a living room of some kind. It was definitely an apartment, even though it was decorated simply enough to suggest that Castiel rarely came here – or just didn’t bother with knick knacks.

“Do you like it? I also have an apartment in Australia that Gabriel doesn’t know about, but –”

“This is fine,” Dean said quickly, looking back at him. His stomach still felt a little queasy, though that could’ve been from the surprise of the trip. He didn’t want to make any more trips via angel air. And fuck, that was a weird thought. Three days ago he didn’t even know that angels were real, and now he’d just travelled halfway across the world in less than a minute with one. 

Castiel smiled at him. “I’m glad. I didn’t think you would want Bobby or Gabriel around when we mated.”

“What… now? But what about Sam?” Dean straightened up, wincing when he accidentally put too much pressure on his sore ass. “Gabriel said he was gonna save him. I want to be there.”

“And you will be. But Dean, it could take Gabriel a while to bring Sam back.”

“How long is a while?”

“It depends on where Sam’s soul is,” Castiel replied.

Dean shuddered, a terrible thought occurring to him. “It’s not… in hell already, is it?”

“No. The demons were waiting for you to offer yourself up in exchange for your brother, so chances are they wouldn’t have bothered delivering Sam’s soul to hell. His soul is likely still in the hands of a crossroads demon. But there are a lot of them, and Gabriel will have to search for the right one,” Castiel explained, using the arm wrapped around Dean’s waist to flip them both over. Dean squeaked, suddenly finding himself flat on his back with an angel looming over him. That was definitely a predatory glint in Castiel’s blue eyes, and that made it kind of hard to think.

“But… um… Gabriel will save him right?” he asked, realizing that his hands were still gripping the fabric of Castiel’s trench coat. He tried to make himself let go, but it didn’t work very well. 

“Yes, Dean. When Gabriel says he’ll do something, he means it. He will find and resurrect your brother,” Castiel told him, lowering his head. He brushed a kiss across Dean’s parted lips. “In the meantime, I want to mate with you.”

“Mate… you mean like fucking. ‘Cause we’ve already done that,” Dean said, momentarily distracted by the feel of Castiel’s hands pushing his shirt up. Those memories had served him well over the past few years. He’d lost count of how many times he’d jacked off with three fingers stuffed up his hole, trying to recreate the feeling of Castiel fucking him. 

Another smile curved Castiel’s mouth, this one noticeably filthier. “And I plan to fuck you again,” he said, deliberately swiping his tongue across his chapped pink lips. “But mating involves a meeting of grace and soul. It will be pleasure beyond anything you’ve imagined. I’ll take care of you, Dean. In this, and in everything. You will never be alone again.”

Hearing those words ignited a desperation in Dean that he wasn’t familiar with. He finally let go of the fabric of the trench coat, only to reach up and wrap a hand around Castiel’s neck. He dragged the angel down into a fierce kiss that Castiel instantly reciprocated, their tongues coming together as easily as though it had been hours and not years since their last kiss. Dean moaned at the familiar taste, now heightened with something that was not as easily identified as coffee and pizza. He didn’t have a word for it, but the sensation made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He wanted that. He wanted that so damn bad he couldn’t have expressed it in words if his life was on the line. One way or another, no matter how much effort he put into keeping his family together, Dean had always been the one who was left behind. His mom died. Sam left for university and then died. John left too, going off to hunt by himself, before dying. And while he didn’t begrudge his family for any of that, he was so scared that one of these days it would end up permanent. Dean didn’t want to be alone, not anymore.

He started at the unexpected feeling of cool air and warm skin against his body and opened his eyes just as Castiel’s fingers skimmed along his bare thighs. Both of them were fully naked just like that, and Dean stared at him in awe. Apparently there were some advantages to angel mojo. Castiel smirked back at him as he scooted down the bed, kneeling between Dean’s instinctively parted thighs, and then he leaned down and sucked Dean’s cock into his mouth.

“Fuck!” Dean cried out, shocked. He hardened quickly under the warm, wet strokes of Castiel’s talented tongue, moaning as strong hands pinned his hips to the bed to keep him from bucking up. It took serious effort to lift his head enough to look down, but he managed - and then kind of regretted it, because the sight of Castiel's mouth wrapped around his cock was more than enough to make him want to come instantly.

Somehow he managed to hold back, but he couldn't stop another choked out groan when Castiel actually swallowed around him. “Cas! Oh god!” Dean actually shuddered, his fingers grabbing at the bed, needing something to hold onto when those intense blue eyes flicked up to look at him.

Castiel smirked and slowly pulled away, dragging out the content until the last second, pink tongue curling over the head of Dean's cock before he spoke. "Do you need something, Dean?"

"Asshole," Dean huffed, head spinning, but it hadn't been so long that he didn't remember what the angel was after. His cheeks burned, but pride was pretty much a distant memory when Castiel was so close to his aching dick. "Please, Cas. Please. I want you to fuck me."

"Have you been a good boy for me?"

"Yes," Dean whimpered, his hole clenching at those words, hips grinding down against nothing. He winced when Castiel's hand ran over his ass, palming the recently spanked flesh, and Castiel chuckled.

"You've actually been a bad boy," he said, but his stern words were ruined by the obvious affection lacing his voice. He crawled up the bed, leaning down to kiss Dean deeply. Dean opened up to the kiss, jerking a little when the first finger slipped between his buttocks and rubbed over his hole. No pressure, not yet, just a gentle tease that was maddening. He tried to push down, wanting more, but Castiel seemed to be expecting it: he moved with Dean, keeping him from getting what he wanted.

"Cas, please!" Dean cried, tears of frustration coming to his eyes. He'd been waiting for this moment for _years_ , ever since he'd gotten in the Impala and driven away from Castiel in the first place. He couldn't stand to be teased. Later, yes, Castiel could do what he wanted: he could tease Dean for hours, bring him to the brink and then back off as many times as he wanted, but right now Dean just needed him.

Something in Castiel’s eyes softened, the brief flash of emotion quickly deepening into lust, and he kept his finger still during the next instinctive movement of Dean’s hips. Dean whined loudly with relief at the feel of something sliding into him, even if it wasn’t nearly enough. He bucked his hips a few times, fucking himself on Castiel’s finger, not knowing where Castiel had gotten the lube from: all he cared about was that it warmed quickly and left him feeling tingly. 

The press of a second finger stung a little more. He’d slept with some girls and exchanged a couple of hand jobs with two different guys since leaving Castiel the first time, but the angel was the only one who’d ever fucked him. No one else would’ve been able to compare, so Dean hadn’t bothered to try. So he was tight, tighter than he wanted to be when he was impatient and this close to getting what he wanted, and he growled in protest when Castiel’s free hand clamped down on his belly to hold him in place.

“Enough,” Castiel said, low and sharp, and the hard knot of tension in Dean’s chest – built up from weeks, months, _years_ of worrying – finally dissolved. He melted against the bed, tasting salt on his lips, and only realized he’d started to cry when he looked up and saw that Castiel was blurry.

“Cas,” he whispered.

“I know, Dean. I know. I’m here,” Castiel crooned, brushing kisses across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead, his closed eyes. His fingers moved and Dean arched, his mouth falling open in a soundless cry at the surge of pleasure that shot through him; it went on and on, Castiel’s fingers pressing lightly but firmly against his prostate, and Dean squirmed helplessly until he was sobbing with it.

His thighs started to tremble from the tension and he collapsed backwards onto the bed, shaking all over. Castiel made a quiet sound of approval and slipped his fingers out, moving back between Dean's legs. He gripped Dean's ass and lifted, lining himself up and deliberately rubbing his palms against the reddened flesh until Dean whimpered again. The sharp sting did little to impede his building orgasm, only adding to it, and he eagerly hooked his legs around Castiel's waist as the angel started to push in.

"Oh fuck, yeah," Dean mouthed, forcing himself to relax so that Castiel wouldn't stop, letting his eyes slide shut so that he could really focus on how it felt to be filled again. It burned a little, but it was so good that he didn't care. He flexed his fingers against the sheets, only opening his eyes when Castiel's hips were pressed against his ass and a hand cupped his cheek.

Castiel smiled down at him, brimming with affection. "I love you, Dean."

"Love you too, Cas," Dean mumbled, embarrassed, and he wanted to look away but he was captivated by those blue eyes. Even when Castiel started fucking him hard, with deep long strokes that Dean felt to the tips of his toes, he couldn't look away. 

"So good for me," Castiel purred, tweaking Dean's nipples. "I love seeing you like this, Dean. I haven't forgotten a moment of the time we spent together, but it's nothing like seeing the real thing. You have no idea..." He trailed off, groaning, when Dean clenched down. "No i-idea... how hard it was for me to hold back my grace. I wanted you so much."

"You've got me," Dean said hoarsely, biting his lip until the urge to moan again had passed. "C-Cas, I want you. Want _all_ of you. Please."

"Yes," Castiel breathed, seizing Dean's hair and crashing their lips together. A heavy palm pressed over Dean's eyes, shielding them, but not before Dean caught a glimpse of the raw white power building in Castiel's eyes. There was no holding back the uncontrollable cries that spilled out of Dean when all of that power crashed into him, lighting him up from the inside out. 

He wasn't even aware of coming, not really, he was just aware of the intense pleasure that seemed to go on and on and shorted out his brain in the process. He must have blanked out, because when he came back to himself Castiel was lying on top of him and the cock in Dean's ass was starting to go soft. Dean stared up at the ceiling, dazed, mouth parted a little in shock. Sex with Castiel had always been awesome, but that was literally mind-blowing.

"Fuck," he said finally.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Castiel asked, lifting his head. 

"That was... shit, Cas, I'm better than okay." It was true. Not only had he just had the best orgasm of his life, he felt... lighter. Like a heavy weight on his shoulders had been dissolved. For the first time in months, he didn't have a single worry on his mind. It was just him and his angel. He blinked hard, because crying during sex once was bad enough.

Fortunately, Castiel seemed to understand his dilemma. He shifted up the bed so that he was lying beside Dean and then pulled Dean into his arms, letting Dean hide his face against Castiel's shoulder and pretend that he wasn't crying while he stroked Dean's hair. Dean inhaled the strong scent of what he now knew was angel and exhaled slowly, shuddering a bit, wrapping his arms around Castiel's back and holding on tightly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Now:**

Stiffness was the first thing that Sam registered, even before he opened his eyes. Not pain, exactly, but the extensive creakiness that came from remaining in one position for too long. He shifted a bit, and then there _was_ pain: sharp and hot, centered around his lower back. His fingers flexed, grabbing onto cloth, and he bit his lip hard against the instinctive gasp that wanted to come out. He had no idea where he was.

Cool fingers touched the naked flesh of his spine, just above where the pain radiated, and an unfamiliar male voice spoke in his ear. "Easy there, Sammy. Just take a moment to adjust, would you? You're not hurt. Not really. Your brain just remembers it, so you think you still have a stab wound even though you don't. My work is better than that." The fingertips dragged down, right over the spot where it hurt the most, just above his jeans.

Sam took in a deep breath and held it, tensing automatically, but the pain never worsened. Instead, bit by bit, it faded away into a dull ache that was, on a scale of one to ten, about a two. At least if he had to get up and fight whoever was leaning over him and touching him in such a familiar way, he'd be doing it without feeling like he'd been gutted.

That voice huffed a laugh, breath fluttering the hair at the nape of Sam's neck. "As though you could. You and your brother are truly a pair."

Dean. Sam's eyes flew open and he turned his head too fast, the muscles in his neck instantly protesting. He didn't care. "You know my brother? Who the hell are you? Where am I? Where's Dean? What happened?"

The man sitting beside him on the bed smiled. At first glance, he looked very ordinary. But there was something in that smile and his eyes that hinted at a predator. "So many questions. You're fortunate I'm in the mood to answer them. Yes, I know your brother. You're in Bobby's house. So is Dean. As for what happened, you were stabbed. Don't you remember?"

The explanation Sam was about to demand never got voiced. He went quiet, memories sweeping over him. That damned town. Ava's betrayal. Andy. Jake - and being stabbed right as he caught sight of Dean and Bobby. He instinctively reached a hand back, touching his lower back, half-expecting to still find blood. But there was nothing, even though he remembered dying in Dean's arms.

"Is this heaven?" he asked suspiciously.

"Good Father no," the guy said. "Although I am an archangel."

"An archangel?" Sam echoed, eyebrows shooting up.

"Well yeah, Sammy. Who else would have the power to smite a couple dozen crossroads demons to get your soul back? Not to mention the repair work I had to do on your body. I tell you, humans are so _fragile_. A couple months with no soul and the flesh just falls apart. Literally."

"A couple of months?" Sam disregarded the rest of what he'd said, choosing to focus on that - at least it made sense, even if it was horrifying. "I've been dead for a couple of months?"

"You're not nearly as smart Dean says you are."

Sam just stared at him, unsure if he should be trying to grab holy water or expressing gratitude. The guy rolled his eyes. 

"Lucky you're cute," he muttered, gaze skittering away from Sam's briefly. Almost immediately there was a loud thump from downstairs, and then footsteps on the stairs. Sam turned to the door just as it flew open and Dean rushed in.

"Sammy?" Dean breathed, stopping short. "Gabriel, you asshole, I told you I wanted to be here when he woke up!"

"All this work and still not hearing any thank you's," Gabriel said dryly. 

Dean ignored him and took a running leap, tackling Sam to the bed as he threw his arms around his brother. Sam wasn't sure how Gabriel dodged it - it seemed like he just disappeared and then reappeared three feet away from the bed, but that was impossible - but he was too preoccupied by hugging Dean back to really care. The strength of Dean's grip certainly led credence to the theory that he really had been dead for over two months.

By the time Dean let go, his eyes were red-rimmed. He gripped Sam's face and stared at him very intently. Sam stared back, taking the opportunity to get a good look at his brother. Though Dean was obviously holding back tears (for the most part - Sam tactfully chose to ignore the salty tear tracks on Dean's face), he didn't look nearly as wrecked as Sam was expecting. His skin was tanned and freckled from exposure to the sun, there were no dark circles under his eyes anymore, and, judging by the fit of his clothes, he'd actually gained a little weight.

"Sammy," Dean said again, and Sam flicked his eyes up to meet Dean's. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean. Confused, but fine."

"Good." Dean nodded and visibly swallowed as he slowly let go. He seemed a little lost, but not for long: another guy Sam didn't recognize, this one with dark hair, blue eyes and shitty fashion sense, moved closer to the bed and set a hand on Dean's shoulder. Like magic, Dean relaxed.

"Hello Sam," the man said, and his voice was surprisingly deep and rough. "It's nice to finally meet you. Dean speaks very highly of you."

"Hi," Sam said, eyes darting back and forth between his brother and the new arrival. He'd _never_ seen Dean respond like to someone's touch, much less a perfect stranger. What the hell was going on? What he was thinking must have shown on his face, because Dean quickly spoke up.

"It's okay, Sammy, really. It's not - this is Cas. Castiel," Dean said, half-reaching up like he wanted to touch Castiel's hand. He stopped, though, letting his hand drop back into his lap instead.

"Castiel. Like the guy you met a couple years ago?"

Gabriel snorted and Dean flushed. "How the hell do you know that?"

"Dude, you're not exactly quiet when you've drunk enough," Sam replied. "At first I thought you were talking about Cassie, that old girlfriend of yours, but I figured out pretty quickly you meant someone else." He gave Castiel a closer look, intrigued now. "Are you the same one?"

"Yes," Castiel said, looking amused. "I am angel of the lord. I came here to stop your brother from selling his soul to save you."

" _What_?" Sam exclaimed. "Dean!"

"You were dead!"

"That doesn't mean you get to do something so stupid!"

"It wasn't stupid," Dean said defensively, looking for all the world like he wanted to cross his arms and sulk. "You're my little brother. It's my job to look out for you."

Sam just shook his head. "Thank you," he said to Castiel, meaning it with all of his heart. He wasn't sure he would have been able to live with the guilt of knowing Dean had sacrificed himself just to save him. 

"You're welcome," Castiel said.

"Uh, hello?" Gabriel said, waving a hand. "Archangel who actually did all the work standing right here."

"Are you really an archangel?" Sam asked.

"He really is," Dean said. "Don't be fooled by the title, and don't trust him an inch. He turned all of Bobby's beer into water."

Gabriel smirked. "That was just funny."

"Funny right up until Bobby figures out how to kill an archangel."

"Not possible."

"Yes, it is," said Castiel.

Gabriel pointed a finger at him. "You shush."

There was an ease and camaraderie amongst the three of them that left Sam feeling a little wrong-footed. Even with other hunters, Dean had never been like this: John Winchester's rules about not fully trusting anyone who wasn't family ran deep in both his sons. But right now Dean was completely at ease, laughing at Gabriel and leaning into Castiel's touch. Just what had been going on while he was dead?

"Are you sure this isn't heaven?" Sam said, half-expecting to see Jess walk into the room at any moment.

He received three surprised stares, but it was Dean who spoke. "You're not dead anymore, Sammy. You're really alive."

"Right." Sam nodded. "I, uh, do you think I could take a shower?"

"Go ahead," Dean said, and then he didn't move. Sam raised an eyebrow and gave him a pointed shove, squirming out from underneath his brother's not inconsiderable weight. His legs felt a little weak under him when he first stood up, but held, and he walked across the room of his own volition.

He glanced over his shoulder right before he walked out. Saw Castiel leaning down and resting his forehead against Dean's, and thought maybe he got why at least a couple things about Dean seemed so different.

It felt really good to strip down and take a long hot shower. Sam didn't usually indulge, mostly because the water pressure in motels was shit and Dean teased too much, but he was pretty sure he was due. There was even a bottle of his favorite shampoo and conditioner, a luxurious brand that he didn't normally buy because money was always so tight.

The air pressure in the room changed, accompanied by the sound of rustling feathers just barely audible over the water. Sam stayed quiet for a few seconds, thinking and squeezing shampoo into his hands, and then said, "I have to admit I'm wondering why an archangel would bother saving my life."

"Well, when my brother is fucking your brother, it gets hard to say no," Gabriel said lazily. From the shadow moving beyond the curtain, he was artfully draped across the counter in a way that couldn't be comfortable. "Although if Dean had told me how hot you are, I might've considered it sooner."

Sam paused midway through scrubbing the shampoo into his hair and repeated those two sentences in his head. It didn't sound any better the second time around. "Please don't talk about _anyone_ fucking my brother, thanks. Those are images I really don't need to have in my head."

"But you're okay with the fact that I called you hot?" Gabriel asked brightly, poking his head around the shower curtain. He leered as he looked Sam up and down.

Later, Sam would insist that it was a very manly yell he let out and not at all a girly scream. He threw the shampoo bottle in Gabriel's face just as the bathroom door slammed open.

"Sam, what is - Gabriel? What are you doing?" Castiel said, sounding dumbfounded.

"Dude, that's my brother!" Dean said at the same time.

"Dean, take your angels and get out!" Sam yelled.

"I am _not_ his angel," Gabriel objected. "And you have no leg to stand on, Dean-o, considering what I hear you doing with my baby brother." His voice dropped a little into something that was smooth and sexy. "Besides, when I rebuilt him I saw everything he had to offer. No need to be shy, Sammy."

" _Dean_ ," Sam said, injecting as much aggravation into that one word as he could and trying not to think about what it sounded like to hear his nickname spoken in that tone. He stuck his head under the water to rinse the shampoo out, but he could still make out what happened next.

"Cas," Dean said.

"Gabriel, come on," Castiel said, utterly exasperated in the way only a sibling could be, and even though Sam didn't turn to look he heard the unmistakable sounds of someone being dragged out of the room.

"It's not fair! He didn't even thank me!" Gabriel whined.

Perverted archangels. Dean sleeping with an angel. Sam had missed a hell of a lot, and he was getting the feeling that catching up was going to be interesting. He wiped his eyes with his palms and took a peek around the shower curtain. Dean was still standing in the doorway, wearing a sheepish, if somewhat shy, smile, like he wasn't really sure what Sam's reaction was going to be but was still hoping for the best.

"You've made some interesting friends," Sam said finally. 

"They're weird, but good," Dean said quietly, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I know Gabe's a dick, but Cas - he saved me, Sammy. I need him. And they're kind of a package deal, just like you and me."

Sam just sighed. "Fine, but if I catch Gabriel trying to sneak into the shower with me again I reserve the right to join Bobby's search for a way to kill him."

Dean grinned. "Deal."

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).


End file.
